Jesse's Side
by Britttt
Summary: This is just a collection of scenes from all the books to let you know what Jesse thinks.
1. First Meeting

**Disclaimer:** _Obviously, I do not own the Mediator Series, and I certainly do not own the characters or what they say. I am writing about what I believe Jesse thinks in these scenes. That's all :) thanks!  
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One hundred and fifty years. That's approximately how long I have been haunting this room. One hundred and fifty years of waiting on the second floor of a house in Carmel, California. One hundred and fifty years of waiting while the times changed and the house I died in converted from an old boarding house to an everyday living space for families. One hundred and fifty years of waiting in a room that had recently been re-done in cream wallpaper, with little flowers dotted here and there, and added a lace canopy bed with a conjoined bathroom attatched to the room. One hundred and fifty years of waiting. Waiting for what, you ask? I, Hector

"Jesse" De Silva, do not have the faintest idea.  
I heard the crunch of gravel as the new family that had moved into the house arrived with yet another person. I assumed it was the young lady that was moving into the room done up with lace. _My room. _I almost felt sorry for the poor thing. That is, until I saw her.

Now, I'm never quick to judge, but I come from a time period where all girls wore dresses and corsets. Of course, I had watched the times change and the style of dress went along with that. Which is why I tried not to judge the girl based on appearance.

She had entered the room with the older woman, who I assumed was her mother, talking incessantly to her as the girl looked around the room. I could see the distaste in her face at the canopy bed, but she smiled at what her mother was saying anyway. The girl was wearing old ripped jeans with a white t-shirt and a black motorcycle jacket. She had long, wavy brown hair and big, bright emerald eyes. She was tall, but that might have been because she was wearing ankle boots, though i would still have towered over her frame had I stood next to her.

"Oh, Suze." I heard her mother say in a disapproving tone, and tuned in to what they were saying. "Not again," Her mother sighed and watched the girls face. I looked, too, and saw that she was looking toward the window where I sat with a mix of surprise, horror and anger on her face. I assumed, again, that she didn't like the frilly window seat. She looked right through me, of course. No one _could _actually see me. I was dead.

"Never mind, Mom. Everything's fine. The room is great. Thanks so much," The girl lied, to make her mother feel better. I'm not quite sure she was fooled.

"Well," Her mother said. "I'm glad you like it. I was sort of worried. I mean, I know how you get about...well, old places." She didn't like old places? I wondered why. Maybe she was afraid of ghosts. I smirked at that and felt sorry for her again, having to share a room with me.

"Really, Mom," The girl was saying. "It's great. I love it." At that, the man, I believe his name was Andy, charged about the room, showing her some interesting technical gadgets that he had put in, like the clap on, clap off lights. (I had found them intriguing).

After he had finished showing her all that he installed, everyone left the room except for the girl and her mother. And me, of course, but no one knew that.

"Is it _really_ all right, Suze? I know it's a big change. I know it's asking a lot of you - " Her mother was interrupted by the girl.

"It's fine Mom, really." She took off her jacket as her mother continued.

"I mean, asking you to leave Grandma, and Gina, and New York. It's selfish of me, I know." Her mother sounded sincere and almost guilty. I decided there that I liked her; she was a good person. "I know things haven't been...well, easy for you. Especially since Daddy died."

Ah, so the man downstairs was not her father. I was chagrined as I realized that I shouldn't be listening to their private conversation. But really, who was I going to tell? I almost left...almost.

Her mother kept up a good speech about making friends and such, which the girl pretended to listen to, and finally said, "Well, I guess if you don't want help unpacking, I'll go see how Andy is doing with dinner."

"Yeah, Mom," Said the girl. "You go do that. I'll just get settled in here, and I'll be down in a minute."

Her mother stood with tears in her eyes and said, "I just want you to be happy, Susie. That's all I've ever wanted. Do you think you can be happy here?"

"The girl hugged her mother, saying, "Sure, Mom. Sure, I'll be happy here. I feel at home already." She seemed caring when she said that, I perceived, but I think she was just placating her mother. After making her swear she felt at home, her mother left and the girl stood in silence for a moment.

"All right," She said, talking to herself. "Who the hell are you?"

I looked around, over my shoulder, even though I knew there was nothing but the window behind me. But...she _couldn't _be talking to _me._ _Jesucrìsto_, I was dead! I looked at her hard and saw that her gaze _was _fastened on me. I could feel the shock and surprise on my face. "_Nombre de Dìos_," I whispered.

"It's no use calling on your higher power," She said, pulling over a chair to where I sat on the window seat. "In case you haven't noticed, He isn't paying a whole lot of attention to you. Otherwise, He wouldn't have left you here to fester for - " She looked me up and down, trying to decide what time period my outfit was from. "What is it? A hundred and fifty years? Has it really been that long since you croaked?"

The way she spoke! It was so...twenty-first century. I couldnt understand half of what she was saying.

"What is...croaked?" I stared at her, waiting for my answer. My voice was hoarse from the fact that I hadn't spoken to anyone in over a hundred years.

The girl rolled her eyes at me and said, "Kicked the bucket. Checked out. Popped off. Bit the dust." I was still confused, so she clarified exasperatedly. "_Died._"

"Oh. Died." Well, she could have just said that in the first place. I shook my head, still overwhelmed that she was talking to me. "I dont understand. I dont understand how it is that you can see me. All these years, no one has ever - "

"Yeah," She spoke over me, cutting off the rest of my sentence. "Well, listen, the times, you know, they are a-changin'. So what's your glitch?"

She sat there, staring at me, and her hard, green-eyed gaze had me feeling a bit...skittish. That was something I hadn't felt in a long time, even when I had been alive.

I put my foot up on the window seat and looked at her. "Glitch?" I questioned.

"Yeah," The girl said again, clearing her throat. "Glitch. Problem. Why are you still here?" I just kept staring at her. "_Why haven't you gone to the other side?_"

I suppose she is talking about me being a ghost, I thought, shaking my head. If i knew, would I be here? But instead, I said, as politely as I could, "I don't know what you mean."

Her expression changed, turned scowling, and she swiped some hair away from her face frustratedly. "What do you mean you don't know what I mean? You're _dead._" She snapped at me, as if I didn't already know. "You don't belong here. You're supposed to be off, doing whatever it is that happens to people after they're dead. Rejoicing in heaven, or burning in hell, or being reincarnated, or ascending another plane of consciousness, or whatever. You're not supposed to be just...well, just _hanging around_."

Yes, well, I had been here for the last one hundred and fifty years. I was certainly getting good at this hanging around by now.

"And what if I happen to like just _hanging around_?" I asked her.

"Look," She stood up from the chair she had been occupying and glared at at me. "You can do all the hanging around you want, _amigo._ Slack away. I dont really care. But you can't do it here."

"Jesse," I said. I dont know why, but I felt like giving her the informal name my mother used to call me. It seemed to fit.

"What?"

"You called me amigo. I thought you might like to know I have a name. It's Jesse." She nodded, still frowning.

"Right. That figures. Well, fine. Jesse, then. You can't stay here, Jesse."

I simply smiled at her, asking, "And you?"

"And me what?" Her chin jutted out, as if to suggest she was being stubborn and did not care.

"What is your name?"

"Look," She glowered. "Just tell me what you want and get out. I'm hot and I want to change clothes. I don't have time for - "

I remembered what she was called before she noticed me here, and interrupted her rant. "That woman - your mother - called you Susie. Short for Susan?"

"Susannah," She said without thought. "As in, 'don't you cry for me'."

Susannah. I smiled. That was a nice name. "I know the song."

"Yeah. It was probably in the top forty the year you were born, huh?" Sarcastic, too. I ignored her and kept my smile in place.

"So this is your room now, is it, Susannah?"

"Yeah," She said. "This is my room now. So you're going to have to clear out."

I raised an eyebrow. Where would I go? "_I'm_ going to have to clear out? This has been my room for a century and a half. Why should _I _have to leave it?"

"Because," She said, annoyed. "This is my room and I'm not sharing it with some dead cowboy."

I stood up quickly, slamming my foot to the floor in anger. _A cowboy?_ Did she even know what the term meant?

"I am not a cowboy," I said willing myself to stay calm. Those sly, thieving, kniving, low life cowboys! Never, never ever...the thought trailed off as I stormed at Susannah. The mirror had started to shake due to the effort of my mind. I cursed in Spanish under my beath as she said, holding out her hands,

"Woah. Down. Down, boy."

"My family," I said, putting my finger in her face. "Worked like slaves to make something of themselves in this country, but never, never as a _vaquero_ - "

"Hey," She said. Susannah reached out and pulled my finger away from her face. Instead of passing right through me, like it should have, her hand was able to grasp my finger and swat it away.

"Stop with the mirror, already. And stop shoving your finger in my face. Do it again, and I'll break it."

She had let go of my hand, but I felt cold all over - except for the finger she had touched. It was tingling as I looked down at it in disbelief.

"Now, look, Jesse," She said, trying to sound firm while taking advantage of my speechless state. "This is my room, understand? You can't stay here. You've either got to let me help you get to where you're supposed to go, or you're going to have to find some other house to haunt. I'm sorry, but thats the way it is."

I looked back to her face and said quietly, "Who are you? What kind of..." I hesitated, not sure how to phrase my question. "...girl are you?" She looked angry at that.

"I'll tell you what kind of girl I'm not," Said Susannah. "I am _not _the kind of girl who's looking to share her room with a member of the opposite sex. Understand me? So either you move out, or I force you out. It's entirely up to you. I'll give you some time to think about it. But when I get back here, Jesse, I want you gone." Susannah turned and walked out of the room, leaving me in shock.

Ah, I see..._member of the opposite sex_...Well, of course I would give her privacy. I may be dead, but I have manners. Hopefully she'd calm down a bit. I dematerialized from Susannah's new room, thinking that I wasn't ready to leave for good quite yet.


	2. Heather's Wrath

_**DISCLAIMER:**_ _Once again, I do not own the mediator series, or the characters, or what they say. I'm just writing what I believe Jesse is thinking and feeling in these scenes :)_  
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I kept out of Susannah's way for a few days, listening but staying hidden and unseen. I learned bits of information about the new ghost, Heather, and how Susannah had saved Bryce Martinson's life from her as she fit in more at school. Though, as time wore on, I got a strange feeling about Heather that wouldn't go away; She was very dangerous. And, as Susannah was 'The Mediator', I was a little worried she would do something drastic. I knew all about the priest, Father Dominick, but, as little as I knew about Susannah, I doubted he would be enough to stop her.

I kept listening, even when I knew it was wrong and I kept watching out for danger. Just as a precaution, I told myself repeatedly. For Susannah.

Well, not just for Susannah, I argued with myself. This voice in my head, though probably meaning I'm crazy, had been speaking up a lot whenever I listened or watched out. It was getting defensive. There are other lives at stake here, too, I reminded myself.

Everything came to a screeching halt, however, when I heard of Susannah's plan to go down to the Mission and talk to Heather. So, I decided it was time to intercede.

I materialized in Susannah's room, leaning against the post of her bed as she made sure she had everything she needed. I waited patiently until she noticed me.

"Jeez," She said when she finally caught sight of me standing there, in the mirror reflection. "Why are you still hanging around? I thought I told you to get lost."

I ignored her statements and said, "It's a little late to be going out, isn't it, Susannah?" She pulled down the hood of her sweatshirt.

"Uh," She muttered, as her hair shook out around her. "Look, no offense, Jesse, but this is my room. How about you try getting out of it? And my business, too, please?"

"Your mother won't like your going out so late at night," I said, choosing to ignore her comments again.

"My mother. What would _you _know about my mother?" Susannah glared up at me defiantly.

"I like your mother very much. She is a good woman. You are very lucky to have a mother who loves you so very much." I thought of my own mother...and my father...and my little sisters. But I didn't let my missing my family distract me. "It would upset her, I think, to see you putting yourself in the path of danger."

Susannah looked skeptical at my last words. "Yeah, well, newsflash, Jesse. I've been sneaking out at night for a long time, and my mom's never said boo about it before. She knows I can take care of myself."

I raised an eyebrow, thinking how strange it was that I started to get the impression Susannah believed she didn't need anyone. Everyone needed _someone._ Susannah couldn't possibly think she could make it by herself in _everything_ she did. This being one of those times.

"Can you?" I said to her. "I don't think so, _querida_. Not in this case." I had called her _querida_, meaning dear one or beloved in Spanish. I'd heard my own father call my mother that while I was alive.

"Okay. Number one, don't call me stuff in Spanish," Susannah immediately objected to the name, holding both of her hands up, palms forward. I didn't think she knew what it meant. "Number two, you don't even know where I'm going, so I suggest you just get off my back."

"But I do know where you are going, Susannah. You are going to the school, to talk the girl who is trying to kill that boy, that boy you seem...fond of." I thought of Bryce Martinson, Heather's former signficant other, and how he had asked Susannah out on a date. I didn't like it, and I wondered how Heather would react to that. "But I'm telling you, _querida_, she is too much for you to handle alone. If you must go, you ought to have the priest with you"

Susannah's eyes had widened enormously as I was speaking. I realized, too late, that I probably shouldn't have let on about how much I knew.

"What?" She gasped. "How could you know all that? Are you...are you _stalking_ me?"

Stalking? "I don't know what that word means, _stalking_. All I know is that you are walking into harms way."

"You've been following me," Susannah accused me. "Haven't you? God, Jesse, I already have an older brother, thank you very much. I dont need you going around spying - "

I hadn't been following her, just keeping an eye...and ear out. Not that she would _listen_ to me. "Oh, yes," I said, trying my hand at sarcasm, and thinking of the brother she called Sleepy. Well, Susannah need _someone_ to look out for her. Her new stepbrother wasn't exactly doing the finest job. "This brother cares for you very much. Almost as much as he cares about his sleep."

"Hey!" Susannah said indignantly. I could tell she didn't like having to defend her stepbrother. "He works nights, okay? He's saving up for a Camaro!"

I did not know what a Camaro was, but I just waved my hand at her and said, "You aren't going anywhere."

"Oh, yeah?" She challenged. "Try and stop me, cadaver breath."

As she stomped toward the door, I focused my entire mind and concentrated on moving the old, handle-less deadbolt into place. It clicked just as Susannah reached the door. She tugged on the knob for a minute until I heard her stop and take a breath. Good. Maybe she was coming to her senses. But...no.

"Okay," She said, turning to face me. "Jesse. This is way uncool."

I looked around the room awkwardly, frowning slightly. I didn't want her to get upset with me, but I couldnt let her get herself injured. Or killed.

"I can't." I looked at her. "Susannah. Don't go. This woman - this girl, Heather. She isn't like the other spirits you might have known in the past. She's filled with hate. She'll kill you if she can."

She smiled at me, trying to reassure me. But I wasn't fooled. "Then its up to me to get rid of her, right? Come on. Unlock the door, now."

I was uncomfortable doing this but it was for a good reason. It's not as if I had callous intentions. I didn't want to do this...but what if I let her go and something happened? It would be all my fault. So I looked into her big, emerald eyes again, determined this time.

"Suit yourself." Susannah walked across the room to the window and opened it with ease. She had put half her body through the window frame when I crossed the room to her and slid my hand around her wrist.

"Susannah," I said softly. But there wasn't anything else I could say. I couldn't think of anything else _to _say. She looked down at my hand, silent for once.

Suddenly, realizing what I was doing, I dropped her wrist. Susannah finished climbing out the window and was gone.

As soon as she left, I started fretting. I imagined all the ways her meeting with Heather could go wrong. Heather was an angry spirit - angry at the world, angry at Bryce but most of all, angry at herself - she would love to take it out on Susannah.

So, after a few minutes of carefully considered options, I decided to go down to the Mission.

_'Cadaver breath',_ I thought, as I materialized into the hallway. Of course Susannah would choose to be insensitive to my death condition. But I quickly forgot about that - for the moment - as soon as I reached the end of the hall. I could hear tiny explosions and a deep voice - Heather - that was gone beyond reason. I sprinted, almost flew, to where I heard the noises and saw Susannah lying flat on her back.

"Get up!" I called, reaching her as the statue head of Junipero Serra landed beside her face. I pulled her to her feet and ran with her under the breezeway, through the hall and into a classroom with the door ajar, where I assumed she had entered from.

"_Jesucrìsto_," I panted after we slammed the door against the statue head that was chasing us. "'I can take care of myself' you said.'I'll just have to get rid of her first' you told me. Right!"

"Shut up," Susannah said breathlessly. The statue head was ramming violently against the closed door.

"Cadaver breath." I looked over at Susannah. Her face was white and her eyes were wide. "Do you realize that's what you called me? That hurt, _querida_. That really hurt." I wasn't genuinely angry with her, but she could at least apologize.

"I told you," She said, still managing to sound grumpy. "Not to call me that."

"Well, I would appreciate it if you didnt' make disparaging remarks about my - "

"Look," Susannah interrupted. "This door isn't going to hold up forever."

"No," I said as the statue head smashed itself halfway through the door. "May I make a suggestion?"

She looked horrified by the statue head, just staring at it, dumbstruck. "Sure," She said shakily.

"Run."

She threw herself away from the door and scrambled up onto the windowsill. There was broken glass everywhere, but Susannah hoisted herself through the window.

"Uh, hurry, please?" I told her, holding the door until she was safely away. As soon as she was out, I shimmered out of the classroom and into the parking lot. As soon as I reappeared, I glanced around for Susannah. I found her peering through the broken window, calling my name.

"I thought I told you to run," I said, coming up behind her. I'd surprised her and she whirled around quickly.

"Oh my God." She just stood there, looking shaken. Suddenly, she reached out and grabbed the front of my shirt, sounding slightly delirious. "Oh my God. Jesse, are you all right?"

Me? Why was she asking about me? I'm dead, or did she forget? "Of course I'm all right," I responded. "Are _you _all right?"

"Me?" She sounded surprised. "I'm fine." Taking a deep breath, she started again. "Do you think she's...done?"

"For now." I told her seriously. Heather was still new, after all. She could get angry, like she displayed tonight, but she didnt know how much damage she could actually do. I wondered if Susannah knew this. Apparently she didn't because her next words were,

"How do you know?" She was trembling and looking wildly about. I was surprised to see her this way. I knew Susannah was still only human, after all...but she always acted so confident. I was taken aback that she would allow me, of all people, to see her this way. "How do you know she won't come bursting through that wall there and start uprooting all these trees and hurling them at us?"

I smiled at her, shaking my head. "She won't," I promised her.

"How do you _know_?" She persisted.

"Because she won't," I said. "She doesn't know she can. She's too new at all this, Susannah. She doesn't know yet all that she can do."

I meant the words to be reassuring, but she looked even more afraid than before. I suppose the fact that an angry ghost could throw immensly heavy objects at you with her mind _would_ frighten most people, so I completely understood her terror. I kind of wanted to say 'I told you so' but considering her state, I decided against it. There was no need to make her feel worse.

Susannah started pacing frantically, gesturing with her hands as she talked at an abnormally fast speed. "We've got to do something. We've got to warn Father Dominick - and Bryce. My God, we've got to warn Bryce not to come to school tomorrow. She'll kill him the minute he sets foot on campus - "

"Susannah." I tried to interrupt her babble, but she just plowed on.

"I guess we could call him. It's one in the morning, but we could call him and tell him - I dont know what we could tell him. We could tell him there's been a death threat or something. That might work. Or - we could _leave_ a death threat. Yeah, thats what we could do! We could call his house and I could disguise my voice and I could be like 'Don't come to school tomorrow or you'll die.' Maybe he'd listen. Maybe he'd - "

"Susannah." I tried again.

"Or we could have Father Dom do it!" She continued. "We could have Father Dom call Bryce and tell him not to come to school, that there's been some kind of accident or something - "

"Susannah." I stepped in front of her to ward off the pacing, and her face collided into my chest as she turned. She wobbled a bit so I grabbed the top of her arms to make sure she wouldn't fall over. She looked up at me, not embarrassed in the least for acting like a crazy person. "Susannah," I started again. "It's all right. It's not your fault. There was nothing you could do."

She looked at me incredulously. "Nothing I could do? Are you kidding me? I should have kicked that girl back into her grave!"

"No," I said to her while shaking my head. "She'd have killed you."

"Bull!" She argued with me. "I totally could have taken her. If she hadn't done that thing with that guy's head - "

"Susannah." I said, resignedly.

"I mean it, Jesse," She claimed. "I could totally have handled her if she hadn't gotten so mad. I bet if I just wait a little while until she's calmed down and go back in there, I can talk her into - "

"No," I said hurriedly. I was afraid she'd go back in there anyway and _truly_ get herself killed this time. I released her arms, but wrapped my armaround her shoulders so that I could turn her away from the school and we could start heading home. It felt safer like this. "Come on. Let's go home."

"But what about - " Susannah griped.

"No," I said, tightening my hold on her shoulders.

"Jesse, you don't understand. This is my _job_. I have to - "

She constantly thought she had to do everything. She was just one girl, no one expected her to handle every job thrown at her, every ghost to be defeated without any assistance. Especially this one, the evil fiend. "It's Father Dominick's job, too, no? Let him take it from here. There's no reason why you have to be burdened with all the responsibility yourself."

"Well, yes, there is." Susannah looked down, so I couldnt read her expression. "I'm the one who screwed up."

"You put the gun to her head and pulled the trigger?" I asked simply.

"Of course not," She looked up and scowled. "But I'm the one who got her so mad. Father Dom didn't. I can't ask Father Dom to clean up my messes. That is totally unfair."

"What is totally unfair," I decided to voice my opinions from earlier, though not sounding quite as patient as I should have. "Is for anyone to expect a young girl like yourself to do battle with a demon from hell like - "

"She isn't a demon from hell," Susannah countered. I thought she would have agreed with that, after the episode where Heather just tried to destroy her with the figurine of a church founders head. "She's just mad. She's mad because the one guy she thought she could trust turned out to be a - "

"Susannah." I stopped so abruptly, she lost her balance again. I had just seen dark drops splattering the pavement beneath us, and realized she was bleeding. Once I made sure she wasn't going to topple over, I looked down at her. She was quiet and her eyes were curious and thoughtful. She looked down again before closing her eyes and breathing deeply. I wondered if, wherever she was bleeding, was bothering her. But she probably would have said something if she had figured out she was injured. Well, then, her eyes were closed for a whole different reason...

"You're bleeding," I informed her, identifying that the blood was coming from her wrist.

Her eyes opened swiftly and she automatically said, "I am not." Looking around herself, she realized my words were true and then, with new dismay, she pointed out that some of the blood had gotten on my shirt. "Oh." She said, finally finding where the blood was coming from. "What a mess. I'm sorry about your shirt."

"It's nothing," I said truthfully. I reached into my pocket and retracted a white hanker-chief which I promptly tied around her wrist, touriniquet style, with Susannah watching inquisitively. "There," I said once I finished."Does that hurt?"

"No," She said. I couldn't tell if she was mollifying me. "Thanks," She said after clearing her throat.

"It's nothing," I repeated.

"No," Susannah suddenly sounded choked up, as if there was something caught in her throat. "I mean it. Thanks. Thanks for coming out here to help me. You shouldn't have done it. I mean, I'm glad you did. And...well, thanks. That's all."

I think I understood where this was coming from. Susannah was not used to being offered help. She continually believed she had to do everything single-handedly. She recieved no help, nor did she want any. So she was thanking _me_, for being there. And I realized that, I really _was _glad to be there. I was glad I could be useful to someone.

"Never mind," I said, slightly embarrassed. "Let's go home."

We walked home in silence for a while, me insisting on pushing the bicycle. I looked over to Susannah, who was normally such a busybody, and her brow was furrowed in thought. It was quite a comical expression on her.

"Heav'n has no rage like love to hatred turn'd, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned," I said gently, breaking the silence.

Susannah looked up at me, conversing slowly. "Are you speaking from experience?"

"Actually, I am quoting William Congreve." I said with an insignificant smile. What could she mean, speaking from experience?

"Oh." Susannah was silent for another moment, and when she spoke again, she was thoughtful. "But you know, sometimes the woman scorned has every right to be mad."

"Are _you_ speaking from experience?" I wondered aloud.

"Not hardly," She snorted. "But we don't know what went on between Heather and Bryce - not really. I mean, she could have every right to feel resentful."

That was true. But it made me furious that Heather would attempt to take that anger out on Susannah.

"Toward him, I suppose she does," I said, trying to sound calm. "But not toward _you_. She had no right to try to hurt _you_." Unfortunately, I just sounded even more irate.

I imagined Susannah picked up on my fuming because to change the subject, she said, "Hey, how'd you die, anyway?"

Her question brought back the memories, and I stayed mute while thinking back upon my death.

I had been engaged to my cousin, Maria De Silva, and was on my way across the county to marry her. I stopped at a boarding house - Susannah's new home - to stay the night before continuing my journey to the wedding ceremony the next day. But Maria had a secret boyfriend, Diego, who owned slaves. Maria wanted to marry him instead, but her father wouldn't hear of it. So Maria and Diego devised a plan and Diego strangled me to death in the room that Susannah is now living in.

I realize now...I don't think I ever loved Maria. I was going to go through with the marriage because it would have been good for my family and their assets. I thought I loved her at the time, but Maria was incredibly boring. She was selfish, thought most highly of herself and never thought about anyone else besides her own character and Diego's, who was just as corrupt as she was.

I didn't want to let Susannah know about my death quite yet...I just figured it's something I should keep to myself for now.

"Um," Susannah murmured. "You know what? Never mind. If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to - "

"No," I stopped her. "It's all right."

"I was just kinda curious, that's all." She said softly. "But if it's too personal..."

"It's not too personal." We reached the house, and I leaned the bike up against the garage wall. I thought for a few minutes, trying to gather my thoughts, with us silent again. I decided to just give her the background on the house, to start off my tale. "You know this house wasn't always a family home."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. It was once a hotel. Well, more like a boarding house, really, than a hotel." I told her.

"And you were staying here as a guest?" Susannah chirped happily. She was trying to lighten the mood, but I still didn't think it was the right time to go on with the story.

"Yes."

"And..." She pressed after a minute or two. "Something happened while you were staying here?"

"Yes," I said slowly. "But its a long story and you must be very tired. Go to bed. In the morning we will decide what to do about Heather."

"Wait a minute," She squabbled immediately, as I knew she would. "I am not going anywhere until you finish that story."

I shook my head, saying "No. It's too late. I'll tell you some other time."

"Jeez!" Susannah whined. She sounded as if she had had a treat taken away from her at the very last minute. Like a small child. I smiled to myself as she continued ranting. "You can't just start a story and then not finish it. You have to - "

"Go to bed, Susannah," I said, laughing at her. I gently prodded her forward until she was at the front steps. "You have had enough scaring for one night."

"But you - " She started again.

"Some other time."

"Do you promise?" She asked me. I didn't want to lie to her, but I didn't want to tell her how I died either. It was a complicated emotion. I didn't want her thinking differently of me. And...I didn't want her knowing about Maria just yet. But I'd have to tell Susannah sooner or later, so I nodded at her.

"I promise," I said, grinning at her. "Good night, _querida_."

"I told you not to call me that," She muttered as she went inside.

I laughed at my Susannah, how funny she could be. I wondered idly why I _did _call her that. I think, by my giving her a little nickname, it made me feel like, just maybe, she didn't hate me as much as she appeared to. Hopefully, after tonight's events with Heather, we could become friends.


	3. Hoping Won't Stop An Exorcism

_**DISCLAIMER:**_ _You know the drill. I do not own the Mediator series, or the characters, etc._

_This chapter's pretty long, but bear with me guys. This is the end of the Suze/Jesse meetings in the first book. The next chapter will be the first meeting in the second book, The Ninth Key. I hope you guys are enjoying this :) By the way, in reviews feel free to tell me any suggestions you have for the story or my writing. I take constructive criticism and it'll sure help me. Thank you!_

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Susannah's schemes calmed down for a bit after the incident with Heather down at the Mission. But a day or two later, while Susannah was at school and I was flipping through some of her limited book collection, I felt something on the "astral plane," as Susannah called it. There had been trouble with Heather down at the school, and there was telling of an accident involving Bryce Martinson and possibly even the priest. If the priest _had _been mixed up in the accident, I could only anticipate Susannah's reaction. It was sure to be an unpleasant spell and there was no doubt in my mind that she would be going back to see Heather.

That was why I had materialized into the Simon driveway just as Susannah descended down the porch roof. I could tell she had noticed me, by the way she stiffened, but she did not speak until she was upright.

"Okay," Susannah said tiredly. "Lets get one thing straight now. You are not going to show up down at the Mission tonight. Got that? You show up down there, and you're going to be very, very sorry."

She had said something along the same lines the last time she went to visit Heather. I remember her vaguely saying 'I can take care of myself.' But she had no plan, and I suspected she did not have one this time, either. I supposed when she said I'd be sorry if I went down to the school that _she _was going to make sure of that. I couldn't help the smile I felt slowly spreading across my face.

"I mean it." Susannah gave me a piercing look. "It's going to be a bad night for ghosts. Real bad. So I wouldn't show up down there if I were you." She was angry, that was obvious in her voice.

"Susannah," I said. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing," She muttered, grabbing the bicycle that was leaning against the garage door from the other night. "I just got some things to settle." Susannah continued.

"With Heather?" I said knowingly.

"Right." Susannah strapped on a helmet, and I was proud she had enough sense to do _that_, at least. "With Heather. I know things got out of hand last time," I could feel a snort coming, so I held it back, thinking of Susannah's lack of strategy. "But this time, things are going to be different."

"How, precisely?" I questioned, wondering if she did have a plan after all.

Susannah hesitated in speaking, but instead straddled the bike and gripped the handlebars so she wouldn't tip over. "Okay," She said heavily. "I'll level with you. I'm going to perform an exorcism."

"_A what?!?"_ I sputtered.I thought her plan would have been something remotely close to reasonable. But, of course not. Susannah was never rational, no matter how long and hard she thought something through. I was distantly aware of my hand darting out to grab hold of the bicycle. At least she had the graciousness to look frightened.

"You can't help me," She said, her voice devoid of emotion. I knew all too well that I could not help her this time. If I went down to the Mission, I would most likely be exorcized too. I was not ready to move on, not without knowing why I've been here so long. A small, less horrified part of me wondered _why_ she was telling me this. If I had gone down to the school, it would have solved her problem of having a dead roomate. "You can't go down there tonight, Jesse, or you might get exorcized, too." She expressed my thoughts from just a second ago.

"You are insane." This young girl, with so much life in her, had finally lost whatever sense she had left. No, she would not do this. She could not do this.

"Probably," Susannah agreed, not trying to fight it anymore.

"She'll kill you," I reminded her. "Don't you understand? That's what she wants." But I saw Susannah shaking her pretty head.

"No. She doesn't want to kill me. She wants to kill everybody I care about first. _Then _she wants to kill me." She sniffled a little, and I wondered if she had started crying. But when she looked at me, there was no moisture in her eyes. It must have been the cold. "But I'm not going to let her, see? I'm going to stop her. Now let go of my bike."

_She_ wasn't the one who _had_ to get rid of Heather! This wasn't her fault, but I know _I _couldn't make her see that.

"No." I still did not believe she could really be capable of doing this to herself. "No. Even you wouldn't do something so stupid." I could tell I hurt her feelings as her face fell, but I couldn't do anything at the moment. I had to stop her, first.

"Even me? Thanks."

"Does the priest know about this, Susannah? Did you tell the priest?" I wondered if I had gotten the wrong feeling before. I knew Bryce had undoubtedly been involved in the accident this morning, but maybe the priest had not been implicated.

"Um, sure. He knows. He's, uh, meeting me there."

"The priest is meeting you there?" Well then, he couldn't have been mixed up in the accident.

"Yeah, uh-huh." Susannah laughed unsteadily and rolled her eyes at me. "You don't think I'd try something like this on my own, do you? I mean, jeez, I'm not _that_ stupid, no matter what you might think."

I regretted saying that, but I focused on what Susannah was telling me. If the priest knew about it, then she wouldnt be all alone. The Father was old, it was true, but if he was going to supervise what went on...

"Well, if the priest will be there..."

"Sure. Sure he will." I had been unconsciously relaxing my grip on the bicycle. But something about Susannah's voice caught my attention. She was _lying _to me. There was a hint of guilt and blame in her tone.

"You're lying, aren't you?" I saw her eyes tighten. "The priest isn't going to be there at all. She hurt him, didn't she? This morning? I thought so. Did she kill him?" I was worried about how Susannah would take it if the priest was seriously injured, or even dead. She just shook her head. "That's why you're so angry." It dawned on me. Heather was picking on the people Susannah cared about, just like she knew she would. I _knew _she didn't truly believe she had to make it on her own. "I should have known. You're going down there to get even with her for what she did to the priest."

"So what if I am?" Susannah nearly shouted.

"Susannah," I said gently. "This isn't the way. This wasn't why you were given this extraordinary gift, not so you could do things like - "

"Gift!" She looked like she was on the verge of laughter. But there was something close to panic in her eyes."Yeah, that's right, Jesse. I've been given a precious gift. Well, you know what? I'm sick of it. I really am. I thought coming out here, I'd be able to make a new start. I thought things might be different. And you know what? They are. They're _worse_."

Of course she would feel this way. She had every _right _to feel as she did. I know being dead isn't easy, being a ghost myself, but Susannah's duty was challenging as well. Especially if you could not confide in anyone - except for the dead. I really did understand Susannah's line of reasoning, but I _was not_ letting her perform the exorcism. She could get killed. And I was not going to stand by and watch it happen. I simply had to protect this girl.

"Susannah - " I tried, but she spoke over me.

"What am I supposed to do, Jesse? Love Heather for what she did? Embrace her wounded spirit? I'm sorry, but that's impossible. Myabe Father Dom could do it, but not me, and he's out of commission, so we're doing things _my _way. I'm going to get rid of her, and if you know what's good for you, Jesse, you'll stay away!"

I was listening so intently to her words, I was surprised when Susannah kicked the bicycle up and pulled on the handle bars at the same time. The bicycle jerked out of my stunned hands and Susannah sped off down the street.

I cursed in Spanish, glad that Susannah did not understand what I was saying. Even now-a-days, that language was not appropriate in front of ladies. I knew I couldn't go to the Mission, so I tried to think of what else there was to do. No one else could see or speak to me, besides Susannah, who was on her way to becoming just like me. The priest was in the hospital and could do nothing, what with his injuries. Susannah was alone, just as she always wanted to be.

_David._ The inspiration came to me just as I turned to re-tread the last five steps I had been pacing since Susannah left. The boy knew enough about Susannah's gift to understand the urgency of my message. I quickly focused and materialized in his room.

The boy was sleeping soundly as I moved to the foot of his bed. I channelled all of my energy towards him, panting slightly from the effort. Moving closer to his bed, I forced my voice to be heard through his vivid dream about winning the Nobel Peace Prize.

"David," My voice whispered through his head. "David," Stronger now. "_David!"_ My voice reverberated through his skull and the boy sat bolt upright in his bed.

He looked, frightened, toward where I was standing by his bed. He couldn't see my full form, like Susannah could, but he could see _something_ there. As far as David knows, ghosts are floating, glowing orbs.

"You - you're not real," He said in an alarmed undertone.

"Yes, I am," I countered, trying to rush through the explanation. I hoped Susannah was holding up alright down at the school. "David, you need to listen to me. Susannah is in trouble. She - "

"Suze?" He interrupted, his eyes wide with shock and fear.

"Yes," I said hurriedly. "She went to the Mission to finish some business, but it's too much for her to handle alone. You must go down there and help her."

"Why - why can't you go?" He stammered.

"I cannot!" I was becoming tense and irritated. Susannah was in danger. "I am...not allowed. You must go save her, David."

Just then, there was a shaking and banging throught the house.

"An earthquake!" David squeaked, throwing the blankets over his head.

But I knew better; this was no earthquake, it was the effect of Heather and Susannah's tussle. I was really worried, now. Using my telekenetic ability, I threw the blankets off of David and to the ground. Giving up with telekensis altogether, I started to physically guide him out of the bed.

"Hey!" He yelped indignantly. I knew I would be cold and pulsing to him, but he didn't understand just what kind of trouble Susannah was in.

"She needs you David," I whispered brokenly. It made him stop shivering and listen to what I had to say. "She needs you, and so do I."

David hesitated and at last I heard him mumble, "Okay."

I disappeared, watching Unseen as David woke Jake, the eldest of the children, hastily. He tried to explain as best he could, without telling him about my visit. He told of Susannah's whereabouts and pulled Jake out of bed, throwing him his car keys.

Thankfully, Jake went along with David and left the house immediately. But waiting was the difficulty. I needed to talk to Susannah, to know for certain that she was alright. So I paced around the room until, at long last, I heard the front door open.

Quickly disappearing, I hovered Unseen as Susannah walked into the room. I breathed a silent sigh of relief when I saw she was in one piece, though looking exhausted. Seeing her like that, I decided to wait until morning to speak with her.

Laying down, fully clothed on the bed, Susannah fell asleep instantly. I watched her from the air, thankful she was okay and wishing I could have been there to protect her. That brought back my earlier thought of why she had warned me in the first place. If she had wanted me gone, that exorcism would have been the perfect way to achieve what she wished.

Maybe Susannah was starting to like me, after all. _I hoped_.

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I popped into Susannah's room the next morning, only to find her still sleeping. I suppose she deserved a day in bed. Her parents had let her stay home from school, assuming it was jet lag that had them unable to wake her.

I waited and waited. And waited and waited. Unseen, in Susannah's room, I started to think about how far we'd come in our friendship. From hate, to saving her life, to wishing I could protect her. I was confusing myself, wondering why Susannah would tell me about the exorcism. I wanted to ask her, but something held me back. Not that I got a chance, anyway, with her still in slumber. It was possible that she was grateful to me, for coming to her aid. Or she might still wish to know why I died. I was wondering idly if she knew I was the one who sent David, when Andy came into the room, just as Susannah woke up.

He told her he had lunch waiting, and Susannah went downstairs for a long while. I decided, since it was going to be a bit before we could have a talk, to go outside. It was a nice day out, and just because I was dead doesn't mean I couldnt enjoy sunny weather.

Susannah and I were becoming friends, despite what she thought. That's what sharing a room would do to people. Not that I was actually _sharing _the room with her. Most days, she was in school and I did not usually come for nighttime visits. I gave her privacy, just as I told myself I would when I first met Susannah.

But the odd want to protect her was perplexing. Susannah did not talk to anyone about her emotions, and we were alike in that sense. Not that I was _able _to talk to anyone. Except Susannah. She couldn't exactly let anyone in on her secret gift, either. I could understand why she wouldn't want to tell her family, but it must be maddening to keep it to herself.

Then again, Susannah had proved to me multiple times already that she was not like everyone else. She was strangely determined and independent, and she always resolved to try everything on her own. I admired her in some ways, and pitied her in others.

I had been walking around Susannah's neighborhood for quite a while before I decided to head back.

I materialized into her room, and saw Susannah sitting on the windowseat, staring into the blue sky. She saw me from the corner of her eye, and pressed a hand over her heart.

"Jeez!" She exclaimed. "Do you have to keep on doing that?" It was almost comical, really.

"Sorry," I said, though not really sorry at all.

"Look," She said. "If you and I are going to be living together - so to speak - we need to come up with some rules. And rule number one is that you have got to stop sneaking up on me like that."

"And how do you suggest I make my presence known?" I inquired.

"I dont know," She sounded falsely thoughtful. "Can't you rattle some chains or something?" Always so sarcastic.

Shaking my head, I said, "I don't think so. What would rule number two be?"

"Rule number two..." She started, but her voice trailed off. Susannah just sat there, staring at me with her big, green eyes. I raised an eyebrow, mostly at myself, for noticing her eyes so often.

"Something wrong, _querida_?" She didn't respond, still watching me intently. I thought about my question I had been wanting to ask her, about why she told me to stay away from the Mission last night. I decided to just be straightforward and ask her. "Let me ask you something," I began. Susannah looked surprised for a second, then turned suspicious.

"What?" She asked, her voice guarded.

"Last night, when you warned me not to go near the school because you were doing an exorcism..."

"Yes?" She eyed me warily.

"Why did you warn me?" I gazed at her keenly as she lost her apprehensive look, and laughed at me.

"I warned you because if you'd gone down there you would have been sucked away just like Heather." She said, obviously.

"But wouldn't that have been the perfect way to get rid of me?" I asked. "You'd have this room to yourself, just the way you want it." Susannah's eyes went wide and her lips parted slightly, looking at me in shock.

"But that - that would have been completely unfair!" I smiled, understanding what she was refferring to. Of course Susannah wouldn't want to send me away without either of us knowing why I was here in the first place. Despite her mediating techniques, Susannah was a good mediator at heart.

"I see. Against the rules?" I teased.

"Yeah. Big time."

"Then you didn't warn me because you're starting to like me or anything like that?" I took a step closer to my _querida_ and looked down at her. She looked like she was concentrating on something.

"No," She said obstinately. "Nothing like that. I'm just trying to play by the rules. Which you violated, by the way, when you woke up David."

Ah, so she did know that it was me. I stepped toward her again, and said, "I had to. You'd warned me not to go down to the school myself. What choice did I have? If I hadn't sent your brother in my place to help you, you'd be a bit dead now."

Susannah looked at me with a steely expression and snorted, saying, "No way. I had things perfectly under control. I - ""You had nothing under control," I laughed at her. She could hold onto an argument forever, but she was failing in her attempt at this one. "You went barreling in there without any sort of plan, without any sort of - "

Susannah took a furious step toward me, so we were directly in each others' spaces.

"I had a plan," She said angrily. "Who do you think you are, telling me I had no plan. I've been doing this for years, get it? Years. And I never needed help, not from anyone. And certainly not from someone like _you_."

My good humor had stopped, and I internally sighed. There she goes again, saying she doesn't need anybody. I still felt the need to protect her...now more than ever. Though I had just saved her life, Susannah still felt the need to tell me she didn't need any help. She still thought I shouldn't be there.

"Someone like me?" I bit back at her. "You mean - what was it you called me? A cowboy?"

"No," She said vehemently. "I mean from somebody who's _dead_." I remembered how mad I became when Susannah called me a cowboy. But now, when she said that, I physically flinched at her words. "Let's make rule number two be that from now on, you stay out of my business, and I'll stay out of yours."

"Fine," I said curtly.

"Fine," She flipped her hair, and continued. "And thanks."

First she was pleasant, then she was angry and now she's _thanking _me.

"For what?"

"For saving my life." I felt my face soften and all the anger I felt at her melted away. I put my hands on _mi querida_'s shoulders and looked down into her eyes.

Just then, Susannah's mother returned from work and called for her from down the stairs.

I jerked my hands away from her and disappeared just as the door to Susannah's room opened. I was mentally shaking myself as I returned outside, hoping the air would help. This was becoming close - dangerously close - to something that should never happen. I was _dead_, as Susannah had just pointed out. She and I were becoming friends, and I was grateful for that. I talked myself out of my anxiety towards the situation. I could be friends with her. I was perfectly capable of being Susannah's friend. I hoped.

It suddenly occured to me, making me laugh like I've never laughed before, that when it came to Susannah...I was always hoping.


	4. Wake Up Call

_**DISCLAIMER:**_ _I don't own the mediator series, or characters._

_This chapter is __a lot__ shorter than the other ones, but I hope you guys enjoy it anyway :)_

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It was during the middle of the night, approximately a week after the ordeal with Heather, that I recieved a feeling about yet another spectral visitor. That was why I found myself appearing, Unseen, in Susannah's room, awaiting her reaction when the ghost of the woman would show up.

I had not, however, expected her to be screaming. The woman presented herself to Susannah's sleeping form, sobbing uncontrollably and screaming as if she were about to be murdered. Pardon me, that was a poor choice of words, considering she _was _a ghost, and I had no idea how she had died.

The woman looked tattered, wearing old pants that went to her calves and a vast, gray hooded sweatshirt. She was also weeping, hard and shrill.

Susannah sat upright in her bed, not looking the least bit sleepy. She simply stared at the woman, looking shocked and faintly irritated. She waited a minute until the woman calmed down enough to realize Susannah was awake.

"I'm sorry," She whimpered, stopping her screaming.

"Yeah," Susannah said. "Well, you got my attention. Now what do you want?" I rolled my eyes to myself at her annoyed tone. Obviously the woman was suffering. Susannah could at least make an _effort_ to be sympathetic toward her.

"I need you," Said the woman. "I need you to tell someone something."

"Okay. What?"

"Tell him..." The woman stopped to wipe her face of tears. "Tell him it wasn't his fault. Tell him he didn't kill me."

Susannah looked surprised, raising her eyebrows until they disappeared beneath the bangs hanging across her forehead. "Tell him he _didn't _kill you?" She made sure. The woman nodded in despair as Susannah looked her over meticulously.

"You'll tell him?" The woman sounded intense now. "Promise?"

"Sure," Susannah said easily. As if that were all there is to it. "I'll tell him. Only, who am I telling?" Good, she was asking questions now. I had started to believe she was too tired to notice that she should be trying to find out more information.

The woman looked at Susannah dubiously. "Red, of course." And she disappeared without another word.

Susannah blinked grumpily and punched her pillow into a more comfortable shape. She laid back down, so I decided to come out of hiding. I appeared in front of the window, where the moon was happily shining through, staring down at her until she noticed me.

"_What?_" Susannah snapped at me. I just slowly shook my head at her.

"You didn't even ask her name."

"Like she gave me a chance," She griped.

"You could have asked," I told her reproachfully. "But you didn't bother."

"Excuse me, but this is _my _bedroom." Susannah sat up, her dark hair falling over her shoulder. "I will treat spectral visitors to it any way I want to, thank you."

"Susannah." I simply looked at her for a moment. She looked tired now, gazing up at me, huffing. "If you're going to do this, Susannah, don't do it halfway."

"Look Jesse," She said. Her voice was hard, and I suspected that I was annoying her. "I've been doing this a long time without any help from you, okay?" Susannah has told me this many times before, but here I am, all the same.

"She was obviously in great emotional need, and you - "

"What about you?" She said condemningly. "You two live on the same astral plane, if I'm not mistaken. Why didn't _you_ get her rank and serial number?"

I did not have the faintest idea what she was talking about, and she knew this.

"Rank and what?" I questioned curiously.

"Her _name_." Susannah rolled her eyes at me. "Why didn't _you_ get her name?" I was shaking my head before she had finished speaking.

"It doesn't work that way," I informed her. I saw aggravation flash through her shimmering eyes.

"Look," She sounded pacifying. "I fully intend to help that woman. Just not now, okay? Now, I need to get some sleep. I'm totally wrecked.

"Wrecked?" Her speech, while positively mystifying, was also incredibly absorbing.

"Whacked." She tried again. "Beat. All tuckered out. Tired."

"Oh," I comprehended. I stood there for a minute longer, watching her carefully. She looked pale in the moonlight, but still striking nevertheless. "Good night, then, Susannah."

"Good night," She replied, her voice squeaking somewhat.

Susannah rolled over again, trying to get comfortable. I still stood there for another moment, mesmerized. Then realizing she wished to go to bed, I dematerialized, shaking my head at my disregard for my own personal rules.


	5. Mr Simon's Warning

_**DISCLAIMER:**_ _i dont own the mediator series, obviously._

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It was a weekday, so I knew Susannah would be in school. I was looking about the room, trying to find something to do with myself. Since Susannah had come, making my life certainly more interesting, it was hard to remember what I did before she had moved into the house.

I had decided to browse along her wall of CD's, wondering what type of music people listened to now-a-days, when suddenly, someone materialized in front of me.

It was the ghost of a man, medium height and stocky. He had brown hair, graying in a few areas with a receding hair line, square spectacles and a frown on his face. He was wearing old sweatpants and a tshirt. He looked very angry.

"Hello," I said politely. "My name is Jesse. And you are?"

"I'm Peter Simon," He snarled.

"Hello, Mr. Simon. If you wait a little while, there is a mediator that lives here who can help explain everything you need to know. She should be home in a few - " Then, something registered with me. Peter _Simon_? As in...Susannah's father?

He could see the recognition on my face and said, "So you're Jesse?"

"Er...yes, sir. But, this isn't what it looks like - " I immediately knew why he was here, and why he looked so murderous.

"I'll tell you what it looks like," He interrupted. "It looks like my _sixteen-year-old_ daughter is sharing her _room_ with the ghost of a _hundred-and-fifty-year-old_ _man_." When he put it that way, it did seem a bit more dire. "Am I correct, _Jesse_?"

"Yes, you are," I agreed. "But - "

"But? _But_?" Mr. Simon raged. "If I'm right, why are you still here? I assume Suze has threatened your being, and yet _here you are_. Care to explain?"

"I've been trying to - " I said, starting to get defensive. I knew I was in the wrong, but he could at least give me a chance to explain.

"Don't cop an attitude with me, _Jesse_." He sneered my name again before becoming silent, waiting to hear my explanation.

"Mr. Simon," I began calmly. "I don't know what Susannah told you about me, but I _do _give her privacy. This is, after all, her room now, too." I paused, waiting to see if he would interject, but he did not. "During days like today, Susannah is at school. At nights, when she is here, I am off attending to other business."

"I would hope you aren't here all the time," Mr. Simon glowered. "And you seem like a decent guy. So I can't help but wonder, _why are you still here_?"

"This has been my home for one hundred and fifty years," I said, running a hand through my hair. It was a nervous habit I had picked up on when I was alive. "I don't have anywhere else to go."

"But how is she supposed to change her clothes?" He wanted to know, becoming riled again.

"She changes in the bathroom," I said quickly. "And I do not go in there. As I said, I give Susannah all the privacy she needs."

Mr. Simon studied me silently for a few minutes, thinking over my words. Finally, he broke into a grim smile. Whatever he had seen in my face, he obviously thought it was all right.

"Like I said, you seem like a decent guy," He sighed. "I just hope you aren't imposing on her. I understand she has tried to get you to leave."

"Yes, she has. But Susannah then got into a few, ah, predicaments. I watched over her as best I could, and after that, she has not asked me to leave again," I said.

"You mean, you saved her life." He looked at me intensely. I had never actually considered helping Susannah as saving her life. I had just tried to protect her as suitably as I could, considering that she did not desire any help.

"Well," I reasoned. "I gave her a...helping hand, I suppose."

"That proves my point that you _are _a cilvilized man, at the very least." He nodded. "Suze has never admitted to needing help. She's stubborn, no one knows that more than I do. If she accepted help from you...I guess you must be all right."

"Trust me," I said. "I do not have dishonorable intentions toward Susannah. I just think it would be best to assist her, when needed, in the mediating situations."

"All right," Mr. Simon nodded again. "Before I go, I just wanted to know if you had any idea who this man is, this Red Beaumont that Suze is trying to get ahold of."

"No, I dont." I wasn't positive, but this Red character seemed a little...unsafe.

"Hmph," He grunted, crossing his arms. "Well, from one ghost to another, I've been getting this...feeling. And I don't like it one bit. Suze needs to be careful on this one. Red Beaumont isn't a good man to be messing with."

"I've been getting that feeling too," I murmured, furrowing my brow. I was so sure it had been nothing, but now having my suspicions confirmed by another ghost who was so close to Susannah, I could see that I had only been brushing it off as if it were nothing. But it _was_ something...something dangerous.

"Well, I'm trusting you will be on the lookout?" Susannah's father looked at me apprehensively.

"Of course," I nodded. "I'll make sure she stays safe."

"All right," He said, thrusting out his hand. "Best of luck to you, Jesse."

"Thank you, Mr. Simon," I said, as I reached out to shake his hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you."

"And you." He smiled at me genuinely before disappearing.

Breathing out heavily, I thought of what Susannah might have told him about me. Was I really that much of a burden to her? I had tried to make her job easier as a mediator. Protecting her was always on my mind. I'd already witnessed that she was the type of person to get into more trouble imaginable. The fact that she set her father after me made me feel guilty and a tad bit annoyed. Friends or not, I was still intruding. And that made me feel like a less-than-decent guy, despite what Mr. Simon concluded.

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That night, I had decided to ask Susannah why she had told her father to come after me. My plan was thwarted, however, when I appeared in her room and saw that Susannah had already fallen asleep. I retreated to a corner of the room, becoming Unseen, and watched her breathe for a moment. She looked peaceful, all the irritation and trouble smoothed off of her face. Shaking my head, I went to disappear altogether, until I heard a piercing shriek.

The ghost of the woman was back, and she was weeping again, even worse than the night before. Susannah was alert at once, the annoyance back on her face. She had to wait a long while until the woman could calm herself down enough to realize Susannah was awake. Her sobs still bubbling out occasionally, she finally said,

"_Why_? Why didn't you _tell_ him?"

"Look," Susannah started. Her voice was struggling to stay light and comforting, but at least she was making an effort. "I tried, okay? The guys not the easiest person to get hold of. I'll get him tomorrow, I promise."

"He blames himself," Said the woman, her knees buckling. "He blames himself for my death. But it wasn't his fault. You've got to tell him. _Please_."

Susannah's face twisted into pity. "Look, lady..." She seemed to remember what I said last night, for then she said, "Hey. What's your name, anyway?"

"Please," The woman sniffled, not cooperating. "You've got to tell him."

"I said I'd do it," Susannah huffed, letting her earlier impatience shine through. "Give me a chance, will you? These things are kind of delicate, you know. I can't just go blurting it out. Do you want that?"

"Oh, God, no." The woman put her hand to her mouth. "No, please."

"Okay, then." Susannah seemed satisfied with the woman's answer. "Now tell me - " But the woman had abruptly disappeared. Without giving her the chance to fall asleep again, I appeared to her. Deciding to mock her, just a little, I began applauding quietly.

"Now that was your finest performance yet. You seemed caring, yet disgusted." She turned her fiery emerald eyes on me.

"Don't you," She began menacingly. "Have some chains you're supposed to be rattling somewhere?"

Ignoring her sarcasm, I strolled over to her bed and sat down, with her pulling her feet to safety immediately.

"Don't you," I contradicted her. "Have something you want to tell me?" I was referring to the visit with her father, but Susannah just shook her head.

"No. It's two o'clock in the morning, Jesse. The only thing I've got on my mind right now is sleep. You remember sleep, right?" Of course I did. And of course I knew she needed her sleep. But I had to know.

"I had a visitor of my own not too long ago. I believe you know him. A Mr. Peter Simon."

I saw her eyes go from weary and bothered, to stunned and cautious in a flash. "Oh." Was all she said. Then, without warning, she grabbed a pillow and shoved it over her face, laying back down on the bed. She said something, but it was stifled by the pillow over her face. it sounded strangely like, "I don't want to hear it."

I telekinetically removed the pillow away from her face and tossed it to the floor, partly because I needed to discuss her father's visit with her, and partly because I wouldn't put it past Susannah to accidentally suffocate herself.

"_What?_" She squeaked at me. She sounded oddly edgy.

"I want to know why you told your father that there's a man living in your bedroom." I was suddenly very angry. Not at Susannah, exactly, but about the entire situation. It just didn't fit together.

She studied my face carefully, looked for signs of my increasing temper. "Uh, actually, Jesse, there _is_ a guy living in my bedroom, remember?"

"Yes, but - " I stood up and started to pace angrily about the room. "But I'm not really _living _here."

"Well," Susannah said pleasantly, and I could tell she was about to point out the obvious. "Only because techinically, Jesse, you're dead."

"I _know_ that," I said irritably. Running a hand through my hair, I turned to look at her. "What I don't understand is why you told him about me. I didn't know it bothered you that much, my being here." And now, I voiced the root of the problem. Well, for me.

"It doesn't," Susannah said earnestly.

"Doesn't what?" I wanted to know. I was confused, though I hated to admit it.

"It doesn't bother me that you live here." She made a face. ""Well, not that you _live_ here, since...I mean, it doesnt bother me that you _stay_ here. It's just that - " Susannah hesitated, scrutinizing me.

"It's just that what?"

"It's just that I can't help wondering _why_," She said quickly. Why I've stayed here, at her house, or why I was still _here_ as in, still a ghost?

"Why what?"

"Why you've stayed here so long." Susannah looked up at me carefully. I tried to focus with her watching me like that. It was just the moonlight that made her look like that, in all of her heavenly magnificence...just the moonlight. I didn't say anything, though. I couldn't really - as I said before, it was the glow from the moon. But I could tell this was about my death again. And I just couldn't tell her. Not now, it wasn't the right time. I wondered if there ever _would_ be a right time to tell her.

"Of course," Susannah said after a few moments of silence. She sounded slightly miffed. "If you don't want to discuss it, thats okay. I would have hoped that we could have, you know, an open and honest relationship, but if thats too much to ask - "

Susannah couldn't be thinking what I thought she was thinking. I had tried to be open and honest with her. It was _she _who would not let me in on what she was feeling, and thinking, and what she needed help with. She was always so stubborn. And that brought us back to the issue with her father.

"And what about you, Susannah?" I shot back. "Have you been open and honest with me? I don't think so. Otherwise, why would your father come after me like he did?"

Susannah sat up with an myseriously appalled expression on her face. "My dad came _after _you?" She acted like this wasn't the first she heard of it.

"_Nombre de__ dìos_," I muttered, trying to keep my anger in check. "Susannah, what did you expect him to do? What kind of father would he be if he didn't try to get rid of me?"

"Oh my God." Susannah just sat there, looking shocked and a little humiliated. "Jesse, I never said a word to him about you. I swear. He's the one who brought you up. I guess he's been spying on me or something."

Taking a look at her face, I could tell she wasn't lying to me. Susannah may be tricky, and maybe a little devious, but she wasn't a downright liar, I could tell you that. So maybe she _wasn't_ trying to get rid of me. I was annoyed by how much the thought of leaving had troubled me.

"So..." Susannah's voice shot up a notch. "What did you do? When he came after you?"

I just shrugged my shoulders, and I saw her eyes follow my movement. "What could I do? I tried to explain myself as best I could. After all, it's not as if my intentions are dishonorable." I hated to admit I had intentions. But, try as I might, I knew I wanted - no, _needed_ - to help Susannah. And plus, she was good company. I liked to be around her.

"You have _intentions_?" She caught on, looking curious. To hide anything I might have given away, I picked up the pillow - physically this time - and teasingly shoved it back into her face. She grinned, pulling the pillow away from her face and then faced me again.

"So, what did my dad say? I mean, after you assured him your intentions weren't dishonorable." I could tell she was sneering at that. Ignoring her tone, I sat back down upon the bed.

"Oh," I said. "After a while, he calmed down. I like him, Susannah."

"Everybody does." She snorted in an obvious tone. "Or did, back when he was alive." It must have been tough on Susannah, losing her father so early. I remembered my _Papì_ and how close we used to be. That is, until the issue with Maria came up.

"He worries about you, you know," I informed her.

"He's got way bigger things to worry about, than me," Susannah said matter-of-factly. I doubted that. Susannah was the only thing _I _seemed to be worrying about lately.

"Like what?"

"Gee, I dont know," She mocked, pretending to think for a second. "How about why he's still here instead of wherever it is people are supposed to go after they die? That might be one suggestion, don't you think?" She was always so sure of herself, always so positive that she was right in everything she did. Such an obsitnate girl.

"How are you so sure this isn't where he's supposed to be, Susannah? Or me, for that matter?" Maybe if I could convince her that I was supposed to be here - It was a long shot, I will admit. Who could influence, Susannah, after all? - then maybe her questions about my death would be put to a stop.

"Because it doesn't work that way, Jesse." Susannah glowered at me. "I may not know much about this mediation thing, but I do know that. This is the land of the living. You and my dad and that lady who was here a minute ago - you don't belong here. The reason you're stuck here is because something is wrong."

"I see," I faked. I saw where she was coming from, but I did not agree. I could be stuck here because something was _right_ - but I musn't let my thoughts travel down that road.

"You can't tell me you're happy here," Susannah said sardonically. "You can't tell me you've _liked_ being trapped in this room for a hundred and fifty years."

"It hasn't been all bad. Things have picked up recently." The fact that I could now be seen and heard - especially by Susannah - made me smile.

"Well, I'm sorry about my dad coming after you. I swear I didn't tell him to." She sounded sincere, and I believed her.

"It's all right, Susannah," I said gently. "I like your father. And he only does it because he cares about you."

She had started to play with a loose piece of her blanket. "You think so?" She questioned mildly. "I wonder. I think he does it because he knows it annoys me." That was a completely different way of looking at Peter Simon's love for his daughter.

I was about to comment on that, when something caught my eye. In the moonlight, I could see Susannah's fingers had bumps and scratches all over them, and they looked inflamed and tender. I grabbed the hand that was playing with the comforter and held it up.

"What's wrong with your fingers?"

"Poison oak," She said sullenly. "You're lucky you're dead and can't catch it. It bites. Nobody warned me about it, you know. About poison oak, I mean. Palm trees, sure, everybody said there'd be palm trees but - "

I interrupted her rambling with a suggestion of my own. "You should try putting a poultice of gum flower leaves on them."

"Oh, okay." Susannah said, sounding slightly agreeable. But I doubted her tone was serious.

"Little yellow flowers," I enlighted her. "They grow wild. They have healing properties, you know. There are some growing on that hill out behind the house."

"Oh," She said, letting some of her sourness leak into her tone. "You mean that hill where all the poison oak is?" Well, I hadn't thought of that. I suppose, over time, the poison oak could have cultivated on the hill.

"They say gunpowder works, too." The only reason I knew this was because, back in my day, I had wanted to be a doctor. But I had never told anyone that. Ever. Not even my closest friends or family. Even when I was alive, it would have been impossible.

"Oh," Susannah said again. "You know, Jesse, you might be surprised to learn that medicine has advanced beyond flower poultices and gunpowder in the last century and a half." I knew that, and every chance I happened to get my hands on a medical resource, I would look up as much information as possible.

"Fine," I said, letting her hands slip out of mine. "It was only a suggestion."

"Well, thanks," She said, trying to make amends. "But I'll put my faith in hydrocortisone."

I simply looked at her, for a few moments. She was so different from anyone I had ever met, dead or alive. So vibrant, and yet so sarcastic and witty. And she was about to walk into harm's way. _Again_.

"Susannah," I started.

"What?"

"Go carefully with this woman. The woman who was here." She just shrugged at my warning.

"Okay," She said easily.

"I mean it," I warned. "She isn't - she isn't who you think she is." I was starting to get another one of my supernatural feelings. This woman was not who Susannah expected.

"I know who she is," She said confidently. I felt my face slip into surprise.

"You _know_? She _told_ you?" When had this happened?

"Well, not exactly," Susannah clarifed. "But you don't have to worry. I've got things under control." I've heard _that_ before, coming from the same lips.

"No," I said, getting up from my spot on the bed. "You don't, Susannah. You should be careful. You should listen to your father this time."

"Oh, okay," She said with obvious scorn in her voice. "Thanks. Do you think maybe you could be creepier about it?" She reffered to my 'ghostly capabilities.' "Like, could you drool blood, or something, too?"

Thinking of what a comedian she was, I ignored her and disappeared. She was too much.


	6. I Am Not Jealous

_**DISCLAIMER:**_ _Of course, I don't own the Mediator Series or characters, etc. _

_This chapter was pretty fun to write :) I hope you all enjoy it! It's back to school for me, so I may not have as much time as I would like to update. But I will definitely be continuing with this story. I take constructive critiscism, so review if you want :D_

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I was pacing around and around Susannah's room, wondering how she could have done this. After I deliberatley told her to go carefully with the Red Beaumont case, she went ahead to his house anyway. I hoped she was alright. Of course, I knew I was not in charge of Susannah in any way, but her own _father_ had warned her about Red Beaumont. You think she would have at least taken into account what Mr. Simon had said. But of course not. Susannah just went dashing in there, without any sort of plan or strategy.

I heard a car pull up in front of the Ackerman home and went to the window, peering out at the night. I glimpsed Susannah and a boy in the car, speaking to one another. I wondered if this was the "Red" man that was causing me to have these peculiar suspicions. I decided to materialize, Unseen, into the front yard. As I studied the gentleman in the car, I realized this could not be Red Beaumont; he was much too young, around Susannah's age. I assumed he was the son of the man, possibly a nephew or another relative.

As I was speculating, I saw the boy move towards Susannah from the corner of my eye. Whipping around so that I had a better view of what he was doing - he _could_ bethe son of a dangerous man, after all - I saw, to my surprise, that he was _kissing_ Susannah!

Something inside me exploded. "_¿Lo que en Nombre de los Dioses está haciendo?_" I muttered to myself. "_Cómo se atreve a fin de que se adelante!_ _¿Ella sabe incluso a este muchacho?_" Glaring toward the car again, I saw their lips were _still_ locked together. The boy was now putting his hands all over Susannah - it was disgusting.  
And suddenly, I was enraged. _What_ could she be thinking? Snarling under my breath, I decided it was time to interrupt. Appearing in the backseat of the boys' car, I arranged a polite smile on my face and tried to hold it there, despite the anger and chaos undulating in the pit of my stomach. I waited as patiently as I could and, at long last, Susannah noticed me.  
When she saw me sitting there, her eyes became wide with shock and I thought I saw a spasm of panic blaze in her eyes. Susannah squeaked out a noise between a gasp and a shriek, pulling her arms from around the boys' neck.  
"What's wrong?" He asked in what sounded like an incredibly dull voice.  
"Oh, please," I said innocently, struggling to keep my tone pleasant. "Don't stop on my account."  
"I gotta go," Susannah said with a slight quiver in her voice. She looked at the boy uncomfortably and said, "Sorry." Swiftly thrusting the door ajar, she raced toward the house. I simply walked _through_ the door, ambling along behind her, trying to seem nonchalant. But, on the inside, I truly did not know what I was feeling. Anger, certainly that. But also a hint of deception...and maybe even hurt. I had not been expecting that.  
It did not seem that Susannah would be saying anything any time soon, so I decided to force her into this conversation by saying, "It's your own fault." Naturally, this made her turn on me in fury.  
"How is it _my_ fault?" She said frustratedly. The boy had slowly started to pull out of the driveway, and finally left Susannah's residence. _Good riddance,_ I thought, surprising myself. I felt a strange hatred toward the boy. I knew it was not a justified dislike, but I did not care. He was a disgusting pig who did not deserve the privilege of Susannah's company.  
"You shouldn't have let him get so forward," I stated. I could feel my calm pretense starting to slip.  
"_Forward_? What are you _talking_ about? _Forward_? What does that even _mean_?" Susannah exlaimed, sounding slightly hysterical.  
"You hardly know him," I accused, becoming angrier with every word spoken. _Why_ did she let him kiss her like that? Was she fond of this boy? He hardly seemed like the kind of person Susannah would associate herself with.  
She had been striding furiously toward the front foor, but at my words she spun around rapidly to face me. "Oh, no. Don't even _go_ there, Jesse," She shouted.  
"Well, you were." I felt my chin protrude like a stubborn child, but I held my head high. I was right about this situation, and she was going to admit it. She should not have - she was too - that boy was no good. That was what it was.  
"_We were just saying good night_," Susannah snapped at me. That was an extremely poor defense, because from where I was sitting, it had looked like a lot more than that.  
"I may have been dead for the past hundred and fifty years, Susannah," I said dryly. "But that doesn't mean I don't know how people say good night. And generally, when people say good night, they keep their tongues to themselves."  
Her breath blew out in a huff of indignation. "Oh my God," She said disbelievingly. "Oh my God. He did _not _just say that." She looked upward, toward the heavens, as if asking God's confirmation of my words.  
"Yes, I did just say that," I told her obstinately. "I know what I saw, Susannah."  
"You know what you sound like?" She challenged. "You sound like a jealous boyfriend." I kept my face expressionless for the moment, thinking over what she said. _Jealousy_? Could _that_ be the emotion I was experiencing so forcefully at the moment? The more I thought about it, the clearer it became. I suppose I _was_ a little...jealous. My heart has not beat in one hundred and fifty years, but if it could, it would have been hammering against my rib cage right now. My mouth was dry, my stomach was heaving, and I had the urge to run my hands nervously through my hair.  
But I could not let Susannah know any of this. So instead, I laughed. I laughed at her, pretending what she had said was utterly amusing in every way. "_Nombre de Dìos_," I said. "I am not jealous of that - "  
"Oh, yeah?" She said. "Then where's all this hostility coming from? Tad never did anything to you." So _Tad_ was his name.  
"Tad," I said menacingly. "Is a _gilipollas_." I was tremendously relieved that Susannah could not understand my native tongue. Such language was inexcusable in front of ladies, but I could not contain my rage.  
"A what?" Susannah started at me blankly  
"_Gilipollas_." I repeated. It fit this Tad boy's character flawlessly. How _dare_ he touch Susannah _anywhere_. How dare she _let_ him.  
"Look," She said impatiently. "Speak English."  
"There is no English translation for that word," I lied gravely. Even such a small lie made me feel imensely guilty. But I set my jaw, refusing to saw more about it.  
"Well, keep it to yourself, then," Susannah said heatedly. Looking down at her, I was suddenly particularly aware of how beautiful she really was. Inside and out. Even in all of my anger, I could appreciate her divine loveliness.  
"He's no good for you," I said, attempting to make myself focus.  
"You don't even _know_ him."  
"I know enough," I said, which was partially true. I knew boys like Tad very well, in truth. He was a troublemaker, a scoundrel and would undoubtedly be inappropriate toward Susannah. "I know you didn't listen to me or to your father when you went off tonight by yourself to that man's house," I changed the subject.  
"Right. And I'll admit, it was very, very creepy," Susannah acknowledged her fear. "But Tad brought me home. Tad's not the problem there. His dad's the one who is a freak, not Tad." I loathed how she defended this boy, who had just been handling her improperly.  
"The problem here," I said, irritated. "Is you, Susannah. You think you don't need anyone, that you can handle everything on your own." This time I was referring to the incident at the Beaumont house.  
"I hate to break it to you, Jesse, but I _can_ handle everything on my own." She seemed to think better about her statement, for then said said, "Well, almost everything."  
"Ah, see?" I pointed out. "You admit it. Susannah, this one - you need to ask the priest for help."  
"_Fine_," Susannah yelled grumpily. "I will.  
"_Fine_," I mimicked her tone. "You had better." We had been so absorbed in all of our shouting that, somehow, we had ended up very close to each other. Suddenly, my anger disappeared. I was abruptly overwhelmed with an intense desire to kiss her, especially when Susannah closed her eyes and sighed quietly. I leaned in for a moment, but caught myself in time. If I had kissed her then, I would be acting just like Tad. I dematerialized hastily, before I could tempt myself too far.


	7. The Astral Plane

_**DISCLAIMER:**_ _I don't own the Mediator Series, or the characters._

_**WARNING:**_ I dont know if I like this chapter, I'm just not sure its as...Jesse-like as I wanted it to be. But I'm putting it up there, so please let me know your honest opinions. I'd love to know what I'm doing alright with and what I'm not. This is basically just a short filler chapter of what Jesse has been up to without Suze.

And thank you to my Anonymous reviewers! I appreciate all of them.

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I had not seen Susannah in a number of days, and I wondered why this fact bothered me so. Ever since the argument we had over the Beaumont boy, I had been avoiding her at all costs. It wasn't as if i didn't want to see her...I just thought it best to keep my distance for the time being.

I had been walking along one of the few deserted roads in the small town of Carmel. The crisp, cool air helped clear my head, and allowed me to think. I was not sure if that was what I wished to do right now, but I knew Susannah would be arriving home already. I was frustrated with myself, that I let my emotions get in the way. I realized, in the time I had spent away from Susannah, that I was becoming slightly...possesive of her. I could not let her think that I cared about her in any other way besides friendship. It would be morally wrong, not to mention dangerous for either of us to get attatched.

Listening to myself in my own head, I became sickened. Here I was, pondering of Susannah's feelings about me. I was too arrogant. I tried to think of something else, but all other thoughts evaded me. I found myself reliving the night before, when I had become tired of not seeing Susannah...

_I had decided to speak with her, gathering up all of my courage since the night of our dispute. When I finally shimmered into her room, I found Susannah asleep, with her hands folded under her cheek, like a small child. Gazing down at her, I let my mind wander. I observed as her breath came out, slow and steady and how the covers of her blanket draped across her delicate frame. I noted how her skin looked soft and pale, almost translucent, and how her eyelashes grazed the skin under her lower eyelids. I was transfixed in her beauty, but suddenly the sensible voice spoke in my head; _This is wrong,_ it whispered. And I knew it. I was fully aware that I should not have been there. But that did not stop me from reaching out, hesitantly, and stroking her hair lightly._

_"Sleep well, _querida_," I murmured._

Coming back to the present, I shook my head hard, ridding it of any thoughts of Susannah. Enraged at myself, I decided it was time to visit distract myself. What was the saying now-a-days? Desperate times call for desperate measures? It was time to visit the astral plane.

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There were many different planes of consciousness that ghosts, such as myself, could visit at any given point in time. I usually avoided it; there was so much to see in the world these days, so much to learn! _But_, I thought as I materialized into a type of hallway full to capacity with ghosts, _this was where I usually found out any information pertaining to ghosts headed Susannah's way._

There was such a diversity of deceased in the astral plane. Ghosts from all different parts of the planet, conversing with each other, chatting about how the other was doing as one of the undead. I generally kept to myself on these rare visits, unless of course I heard of something that might be vital to Susannah's job as a mediator. And today happened to be one of those occasions.

"As I was sayin' Mildred," The ghost of an old, large woman was speaking loudly to another ghost. I had folded my arms and was situated casually against one of the few pillars in the diminutive hallway, approximately five feet from where they were speaking. "That woman, what was her name - Mrs. Fiske - she told me that Beaumont fellow did her in!"

_Beaumont?_ I was instantly alert to their conversation. Eavesdropping was a horrid thing to do, but if I could forgive myself - mostly - for doing the same act to Susannah, then I could find it in my being to excuse myself for this, as well.

"Beaumont?" The woman called Mildred echoed my thought. She had a gentle, high-pitched voice, nothing like the other woman's booming tone. "Isn't he that big-shot real estate agent?"

"Somethin' like that," The larger woman said, waving her hand vaguely. "His brother is a wack-a-doodle, of course. Thinks he's some kind of danger to society!"

Red Beaumont's brother was a danger to society? It occured to me that it could be the brother I was getting those peculiar feelings about. Quite possibly _he _was the danger, not Red Beaumont. But as soon as I had thought those words, I got another sensation - and it was not pleasant. The hairs on the back of my neck tingled and I knew something was very wrong here.

"Well then, he should be locked up!" Mildred's eyes widened behind her thick spectacles.

"Beaumont said he doesn't want to 'break up the family.'" The woman said scornfully. "Anyways, I've got to see how Marty's doin'. It's been ages since I dropped by." And with that, the woman promptly disappeared, leaving Mildred to wander off with another ghostly companion.

The susipicious feeling would not go away, predominantly after I heard that discussion. Rubbing the back of my neck, I dematerialized back onto the abandoned road of Carmel. Continuing my walk, I fretted about the Beaumont's and wondered just how much peril Susannah would get herself into now.


	8. Going To Father Dominick

_**DISCLAIMER:**_ _I don't own the Mediator Series, or the characters._

_Thank you all for sticking with me! I'm trying to update as often as I can. I hope you all like this chapter, thank you so much for all of the reviews I got. I appreciate them all :)_

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I waited in Susannah's room, Unseen, wondering how best to start a conversation. I had not seen her since our dispute about the Tad boy, and I was not looking forward to the unwelcome and awkward greeting that I was sure to recieve. Then there was the fact that Tad himself, along with his peculiar father, were sitting in Susannah's living room. I wondered what he could possibly want from Susannah or her family. Contemplating my last encounter with her, I sighed when I heard the front door slam, and heard my _querida_ shout, "I'm home!" to the occupied living room.

Eavesdropping - I seemed to be doing much of that lately - I understood, from the gist of the conversation, that Red Beaumont would like Susannah to accompany him and his son for dinner that evening. Susannah agreed, though she sounded reluctant. I heard her sigh frustratedly, starting to stomp up the stairs, and I braced myself. Her fury at my presence was one thing, but my unnerving manner was another situation entirely; I did not want to feel what I knew I undoubtedly _would_ feel when I saw her too beautiful face.

She entered the room with a disgruntled expression, holding her large handbag at an armslength away from her body. Something was _moving_ inside the bag, but I had no idea what she could be hiding in there. Placing the bag down on the floor, she pulled out an object from another bag at her side. It looked strangely like a miniscule sandbox. Susannah then proceeded to gather some kind of animal kibble and water from the bathroom. I watched perplexedly, still Unseen, and the thought that ran through my mind made me grin to myself; _Susannah will never cease to amaze me._

Suddenly, a movement caught my attention from the corner of my eye. An animal paw was clawing its way through a hole in the bag and a strange howling noise was ripping through the air. What had she done now?

"I'm going as fast as I can." I heard Susannah mutter. When the food and water was in its place on the floor, she gingerly picked up the bag and unzipped it - letting a monster come tearing around the room.

Whatever it was zoomed around the room with amazing vigor, but came to a halt at the sight of the food and water. While it was standing still, I was able to get a good look at it. It looked distinctly feline, but I could not be sure. The thing was large for a cat, with enormous paws and a long bushy tail. It had matted orange fur that was bald in some patches, and a rather squashed face, with cautious yellow eyes and a nose that looked similarly like a pigs'. At first glance, it was extremely ugly; it was missing the top part of its left ear, and his bandy legs were scarred.

But when I looked closely at the creature, I realized it was somehow symbolic. This...cat had obviously been through much in its life, but it was still enthusiastic enough to charge around the room and growl like he owned the place. It didn't seem like a first choice for a pet, but I couldn't see the harm in the poor beast.

"What," I started, gathering up what was left of my courage and appearing to Susannah. "Is _that_?" I still was not sure what exactly the animal _was_. She turned her attention away from the cat and peeked up at me. My breath - poor choice of words, since I could not exactly breathe - caught in my throat as she looked at me for the first time in too long, but I kept my expression amused at my question and re-directed my attention to the thing that was now munching on its food.

"It's a cat," Susannah said, clarifying my suspicions. "I didn't have any choice. It's just until I find a home for it."

"Are you sure it's a cat?" I wondered, still staring at it. "It doesn't look like any cat I've ever seen. It looks more like...what do they call them? Those small horses. Oh yes, a pony." I was teasing her a little, but at the same time, I was serious.

"I'm sure it's a cat." Susannah seemed a little...off. She was pale and her eyes were bright and wide. "Listen, Jesse, I'm kind of in a jam here."

"I can see that," I said, looking pointedly at the cat again.

"It's not about the cat," She said hurriedly, as if she wanted to get the explanation out as quickly as possible. "It's about Tad." I suddenly recalled the guests Mrs. Ackerman was entertaining in the living room while Susannah was up here. I could not help it when the amused smile that had been on my face at seeing Susannah slipped into an expression of anger and disdain.

"He's downstairs," She said distractedly, not knowing I was already aware of this. "With his father. They want me to come over for dinner. And I'm not going to be able to get out of it."

"_Que idiota__. ¿Porqué_ _no puede simplemente abandonar a su sola?_" I faintly realized I had been speaking aloud. Tad and his father were _forcing_ Susannah to go to their home? I could not fathom why. If she did not wish to go, she should not have to.

"The thing is," Susannah continued tentatively. "I've found out some things about Mr. Beaumont that make me...well, nervous. So could you, um, do me a favor?"

I blinked, barely concealing my shock. Susannah was asking for my _help_? She always insisted she could take care of things on her own. This must be important, and if it was important to her, it was important to me.

"Of course, _querida_," I said simply. The word fell so naturally from my speech, I rarely ever thought about saying it. I had never been able to completely set free and be just Jesse with anyone...other than Susannah, the remarkable girl I could never be with.

"Look," Susannah's voice went up an octave, and I wondered if she was truly scared. "If I'm not back by midnight, can you just let Father Dominick know that he should probably call the police?"

_Father Dominick_? She wanted me to go to him? I assumed she told him about me, but I suppose it had been an unspoken rule that I should not visit him until necessary. This situation that Susannah was in certainly seemed necessary...

"You want _me_ to speak to the priest?" I clarified, just to be certain. She was dashing about the room, throwing various things into another bag.

"Yes," She said to me. "I do." Was Red Beaumont making her go, or did Susannah merely feel that this was her "job" once again as the mediator?

"But Susannah," I reasoned. "If he's dangerous, this man, why are you - "

"Susie?" Her mother's voice was close, and soon she was rapping on the door to the bedroom. "You decent?" Susannah was never just _decent, _I thought dotingly. She was stunning, all the time.

"Yeah, mom," Susannah replied resignedly. The look she gave me as she hurried out of the room was devestating to my willpower. She was pleading with me, hoping I would take her word and do her this one favor. I sighed to myself when she was gone, thinking that she should know by now: I would do anything for my _querida_.

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It had been a few hours after Susannah left the room and I was becoming more and more worried. I started imagining all of the possible ways her meeting with Red Beaumont could go wrong. Susannah had seemed less assured of herself when I last saw her, and I was beginning to wonder what kinds of things she had found out about this man that could make her so nervous. What if he tried to hurt her? That last thought had me clenching my fists in anger and wishing to throw something against the flowered wallpaper.

I hung my head and sighed. Susannah would be angry with me, but I could not wait until midnight; something might happen before then. It was time to go to Father Dominick.

I focused my mind and suddenly, I was there at the Mission rectory. There were nuns and novices all about the rooms and a few other priests of different parishes near the area.

Finding Father Dominick was not as hard as I had imagined it would be. He was sitting on a large, covered couch in a common room of sorts with a few other people on either side of him. As soon as I stepped in front of him, he looked up. He realized immediately that I was a spectral visitor, probably because of the faint aura surrounding my presence. Jumping up at once, Father Dominick excused himself from his companions and wandered out of the room, making a motion towards me that indicated I should come with him. I followed in his wake, watching the old man closely.

He was pale and bony, but he did not look frail as other senior citizens did. He looked like a strong, lively man who would not let something so irrelevant as age get in the way of his two jobs: priest and mediator. Leading me into a study, the Father closed the door and sat behind a large desk, smiling up at me kindly.

"Hello," He started. "My name is Father Dominick, and I am a mediator. I can see and speak to the dead."

"Hello, Father," I said politely. "My name is Jesse De Silva. I am aware of what mediators do, what with meeting Susannah and all."

"Ah," The priests expression turned anxious. "You've met Susannah, have you?" He looked concerned for my being, and I understood what he was getting at. Susannah's mediating methods were quite...unique.

"Why, of course I have," I said, becoming confused. He must know that I have met Susannah, I was virtually living in her bedroom. As a priest, I knew he must not have been happy about this, and overall he was being very gracious. "I have been, ah, sharing her room, after all."

"You _what_?!" Father Dominick stood up suddenly, but then collapsed into the chair again at once. "You've been staying in her _room_?" I started to get defensive, but mostly I was ashamed. This was like the encounter of Peter Simon all over again.

"Sir," I began, trying to calm him down. The Father was getting very red in the face and I did not want him to keel over, heaven forbid. "I give Susannah privacy. I died in her room one hundred and fifty years ago and I do not have another residence to go to. Susannah is in school most of the time, and I do not spend my nights in her bedroom. I do not mean any harm or disrespect towards her in any way." It was quite obvious that Susannah did not tell the priest anything about me. I was embarrassed in front of Father Dominick and growing very tired of Susannah's secrecy. Why didn't she at least let the Father know who I was? Anger coursed through me now. I was furious with Susannah, and with poor innocent Father Dominick, but the anger was primarily directed towards myself.

"B-be that as it may," He spluttered. "I do not think it is suitable for a young man such as yourself to be residing with a sixteen year old of the...female persuasion." The Fathers eyes widened at his own choice of words and there was an awkward stillness in the air.

"I-I don't - " Running my fingers through my hair frustratedly, I sat down in the chair opposite of Father Dominick. "I assumed Susannah told you about me, this was my mistake. I do not have any dishonorable purpose towards Susannah and I do not act inappropriately regarding her. I hope you shall forgive me, Father, I just thought you should know..." And then the real reason that I had come to Father Dominick flitted through my hazy mind. "I have reason to believe Susannah is in danger. Again."

"Danger?" The priest said sharply, nervously patting his robes and apparently looking for something. He pulled out a full package of cigarrettes and stared down at it. "What kind of danger? Does this have anything to do with the Beaumont matter?"

"Yes, sir, it does," I said. "Susannah went to the Beaumonts estate for dinner this evening. We had a conversation before she left and said she had found out some factors about Red Beaumont that made her a bit nervous. Susannah told me that if she was not back by midnight, I must tell you to fetch the police."

"The police?" Father Dominick said, astounded. "Why on earth...what time is it now?"

"About eight o'clock, Father," I said. "I could not wait so long as midnight to tell you about the situation. If something were to happen to her..." My voice trailed off and looked down at the desk, not wishing to see Father Dominick's expression.

"I see your point," The priest said gently. "And I will see what I can do for Susannah at this time. Thank you for telling me, Jesse."

"You're welcome," I said quietly, standing up to exit the room.

"And, Jesse, before you go," Father Dominick came around the desk to stand in front of me. "I'm trusting you to keep your word and give Susannah her privacy. I do not normally condone such conditions as this, but considering your circumstance...I just hope you will make wise decisions. For Susannah."

"Thank you, Father," I nodded. I was filled with shame as I disappeared from the rectory and, without being attentive to my surroundings, I found myself materializing on the beach, with the sun just setting.

Why didn't she tell Father Dominick about me? Sitting down on the soft sand, I let it run through my fingers miserably. She did not simply forget to mention me; I know it did not just slip her mind. There must have been a reason. It had been a tad embarrassing to reach Father Dominick as an absolute stranger and explain my reasons again. Of course, I had told the truth. Mostly, I thought savagely. I did not have dishonourable intentions towards Susannah, as I had told Mr. Simon and the priest. But I could not pretend any longer that I did not feel towards Susannah...differently than I had ever felt for anyone else in my entire existance. This was not mere friendship for me, and that was concerning in many different ways. I sighed as the sun set completely, throwing me into darkness. If it was not for the fact that I was already deceased, Susannah would have been the death of me.


	9. Growing Feelings

_**DISCLAIMER:**_ _I don't own the Mediator Series. You know the drill._

_I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Sorry if its taking me longer to update, in the future. I hope you guys are liking the story! :)_

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While waiting for Susannah to come back from the Beaumonts residence, I appeared in her room to pace anxiously. What had she been thinking, going to his house alone? I was worried, humiliated and annoyed. My thoughts were a whirlwind as I tried to sort out my attitude. I was worried about Susannah, that much was straightforward. She could be injured by this dangerous man! Not only that, but his son was quite irksome as well. I wondered idly if he would be there with her...I had felt humiliated ever since my sudden confrontation with Father Dominick. The annoyance I felt stemmed from that fact; Susannah was always keeping secrets, always hiding her actions. The least she could have done was warn me that I was a stranger to the priest. No matter what she thought, she could not get by in life without assistance - without someone to lean on when times were hard. Especially with her appointment as mediator.

As I had been mulling over my thoughts, the cat that Susannah had brought home wandered over to the window seat I now sat upon. He raised his scarred face and I studied him as thoroughly as he seemed to be studying me. Unlike the Ackerman's dog, this cat did not shy away from my deceased form. There had been many theories over the years about whether animals could set eyes upon spirits. Judging by the fact that he bounded onto the window seat beside me, I would venture that the 'yes' hypothesis to that question is correct. I was mildly surprised that the cat did not run from me. Normally, animals can sense, if not see, ghosts and I had seen how the family dog reacts to coming near my presence. But my suspicions about the cat proved to be true; he was brave. This cat presented himself in a manner that suggested an untouchable value. I found myself admiring the creature instead of being revolted, as Susannah had been.

Cautiously, I stretched out my hand towards him. The cat watched warily, as if he expected an attack at any moment. I slowly reached out farther, and my fingers finally made contact with the soft fur at the top of his head. I was astonished when, instead of jumping out from underneath my hand and hissing, which was clearly in his nature, the cat butted his head against my hand and purred lightly. What a strange animal this was, allowing a ghost to stroke his matted fur.

I realized, as the cat moved closer to me while I patted him, that I genuinely liked this cat. He made for a good pet. Gazing down at the orange creature, I found that my eyes unfocused and I began to wonder about Susannah. Where was she? Was she alright? And could her wavy chestnut locks possibly feel as soft as this cats fur? Probably even silkier, she spent so much time on her hair. I laughed lightly, shaking my head at the cat.

"What have I gotten myself into?" I mused. He stared grumpily back at me as I removed my hand from his fur and stood up. I could not stay here, cooped up in her room, thinking about her like this. I decided to take one of my many walks.

As I started to shimmer and disappear, the cat lunged at my near-transparent form. Stopping my de-materialization, I grinned relunctantly. "Would you like to come to?" I said to the monster. The cat meowed, coming to stand by my heels. "Alright then, come." I, quite literally, walked through the window and out onto the roof that hung over the porch of the house. The cat climbed lazily through in my wake, leaping off the edge gracefully. Appearing next to him on the lawn, I set off down the sidewalk with my furry companion, picking up where I left off with my thoughts.

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It was late when I appeared again in Susannah's room, the cat springing through the open window. I expected her to be sleeping, but I heard the bedsprings creak as she rolled over.

"Woah," She smiled at me, taking in the cat's comfortable stance next to me on the window seat. Leaning up on her elbows, her hair fell over her shoulders gracefully. "_That _is one for _Ripley's Believe It or Not._" I did not know what she was refferring to, but I grinned back at her despite my confusion.

"I think he likes me," I said with certainty.

"Don't get too attatched," Susannah warned. "He can't stay here, you know." My face fell considerably when I heard that. I was starting to like this cat a great deal.

"Why not?" I demanded.

"Because Dopey's allergic, for one thing," She started, indicating her stepbrother Brad. "And because I didn't even ask anyone if it was okay for me to have a cat."

"It is your house now, as well as your brothers," I told her, shrugging while trying not to sound too obstinate.

"Stepbrothers," Susannah muttered automatically. She stared at me for a minute, her face unreadable. "And I guess I still feel more of a guest here than an actual occupant."

"Give yourself a century or so," I smiled wider. "And you'll get over it."

"Very funny," Susannah said, rolling her eyes. "Besides, that cat hates me." It was true that the cat did not always exhibit the most pleasant behavior towards her. But I disregarded this, believing that it was only because she did not know the cat like I did.

"I'm sure he doesn't hate you," I disagreed.

"Yes, he does. Every time I come near him, he tries to bite me."

"He just doesn't know you," I explained. "I will introduce you." Picking up the cat, I held him out in Susannah's direction. "Cat, this is Susannah. Susannah, meet the cat."

"Spike," She said unexpectedly. Was I depriving her of needed sleep?

"I beg your pardon?" I asked politely.

"Spike," Susannah repeated. "That cat's name is Spike." She was most likely trying to be funny, I thought. But when I saw her serious expression - except for the wicked amusement in her eyes at my surprise - I placed the cat back on the floor and looked at him woefully.

"That is a terrible name for a cat," I said.

"Yeah," Susannah brushed off the comment. "So I hear you met Father Dominick." I could tell she was trying to keep the conversation light. I looked up from...Spike, fastening my gaze on hers.

"Why didn't you tell him about me, Susannah?" I asked calmly. She gulped noticeably, seeming nervous at my reaction.

"Look," She said. "I _wanted_ to. Only I knew he was going to freak out. I mean, he's a priest. I didn't figure he'd be too thrilled to hear that I've got a guy - even a dead guy - living in my bedroom." She was struggling to keep a troubled tone. Did she not care at all? Although, her logic made some sense, what with Father Dominick being a holy priest and messenger of god. "So, um, I take it you two didn't hit it off?"

I fought the urge to roll my eyes - Susannah's ways were starting to rub off on me. "Between your father and the priest, I would take your father any time." I was teasing her, just a little, wanting to see her reaction.

"Well, don't worry about it," She said. "Tomorrow I'll just tell Father Dom about all the times you saved my life, and then he'll just have to deal." I frowned at her, knowing fully that the priest would not simply 'get over it' as she presumed. "Look," Susannah sighed, pushing the covers off her to reveal her attire of a plain t-shirt and shorts. She walked over to me, seeming perfectly at ease like that, and said, "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, Jesse. I should have told him sooner and introduced the two of you properly. It's my fault." At that, all of my annoyance disappeared. I was disappointed that she had not told the priest about me, but I had not meant to make her feel as if it was her fault. She was always so quick to shoulder the blame for everything, believing it was her responsibility.

"It isn't your fault," I tried to assure her. So much responsibility wasn't called for at her age.

"Yes, it is." Susannah sat down on the window seat beside me, proving my thoughts correct with her statement. She threw a disgusted look at Spike and continued. "I mean, you may be dead, but I haven't got any right to treat you as if you were." With that sentence, the guilt crashed over me. I had not meant to make her feel so awful. My stomach flipped at the guilt I was causing _her_. "Thats just plain rude," She went on. "Maybe what we can do is, you and me and Father Dom can all sit down and have lunch together or something, and then he can see what a nice guy you really are."

Yes, Susannah was definitely suffering from lack of sleep. "Susannah," I said, looking at her incredulously. "I don't eat, remember?"

"Oh, yeah." Her brow furrowed delicately. "I forgot."

I began to pet spike absentmindedly, looking at Susannah from the corner of my eye. She was frowning to herself, hunching her shoulders inward as she thought. I was suddenly weighed down with the wish to smooth out the worried crease in her forehead, to make her eyes light up and the smile I loved to flash across her face.

"Jesse," Susannah sighed miserably. "If there was any way I could make you not dead, I'd do it." I froze for a minute, looking down at Spike. I smiled slightly, feeling the warmth in my silent heart at her words.

"Would you?" Was all I said. I could not let her know what that meant to me. Attatchment was never good in these situations.

"In a minute," Susannah responded. "Except that if you weren't dead, you probably wouldn't want to hang out with me."

I looked up at her, startled by her assumption. "Of course I would," I countered. Why would she possibly think that?

"No," She said, looking down. "You wouldn't. If you weren't dead, you'd be in college or something, and you'd want to hang around with college girls, and not boring highschool girls like me." She was most likely right about the college notion, but of course I would want to hang around with her. She was the most interesting person I had ever met, alive or deceased. She was fun and vibrant and impulsive...slightly eccentric with her strange antics, but it was part of the reason I liked her so much. I wanted to be around her, all the time. But boring? Never.

"You aren't boring," I told her seriously.

"Oh, yes, I am," She declared. "You've just been dead so long, you don't know it."

"Susannah," I said, managing to keep the exasperation out of my tone. "I know it, all right?"

"You don't have to try to make me feel better," She said quietly. "It's okay. I've come to accept it. There are some things you just can't change."

Looking at her, in her loose shirt, without any of those gooey substances she puts on her face, she was more beautiful than anything I had ever seen. I would give anything I had - which was not much - to be alive, with Susannah, right then.

"Like being dead," I said, just as quietly. I saw Susannah's face become even more glum, and I regretted the words that made her that way.

With a sudden impusle of desperation coursing through me, I reached out and cupped her soft face in my large, calloused hand. Her stubborn chin was held between my thumb and forefinger as I looked into her emerald eyes passionately.

Something distinct flashed through _mi querida's _eyes when she finally, finally focused her gaze on mine. But it was gone before I could determine what it was. I was just about to lean in, to close that distance between us and throw caution to the winds. I was about to lower my mouth to her soft, gentle lips and silence that voice booming in my head, the voice that was telling me how very, very wrong this was. But before I could get a chance, I was interrupted by a hair-raising shriek.

The ghost of the woman was back, and her screaming blew the passion-filled haze from my head. I let go of Susannah's face as if she had suddenly burst into flames. She jumped nearly a foot into the air as she clamped her hands over her ears, turning to the shrieking woman in anger.

"Oh my God," She exclaimed. "What's the matter?"

"You didn't tell him," The woman said, tears falling from her red rimmed eyes. Hadn't Susannah told Red Beaumont the woman's message when she went - unsupervised - to his estate?

"Yes, I did." Susannah blinked perplexedly.

"You didn't!" The woman yelled.

"No," Susannah disagreed persistantly. "I did, I really did. I told him a couple of days ago. Jesse, tell her."

"She told him," I said to the woman dutifully.

"You _didn't_!" The woman said again. "And you've _got_ to tell him. You've just _got _to. It's tearing him up inside."

"Wait a minute," Susannah stipulated. "Red Beaumont _is _the Red you're talking about, right? Isn't he the one who killed you?"

"No, no! I told you Red _didn't _do it."

"Marcus, I mean," Susannah corrected. "I know Red didn't do it. He just blames himself for it, right? That's what you want me to tell him. That it wasn't his fault. It was his brother, Marcus Beaumont, who killed you, wasn't it?" I gathered that Marcus Beaumont was apparently Red's younger brother, who murdered Mrs. Fiske, the woman Susannah had been going on about for the past few days, and many others.

"No!" The woman looked incredulously at Susannah, who just stared blankly back at her. "Not Red _Beaumont_. Red. _Red!_ _You know him_."

"Look, I need a little more info than that. Why don't we start with introductions. I'm Susannah Simon, okay? And you are...?" The woman gave Susannah such a look of pure despair, that Susannah had to look down, the guilt and horror at her mediation techniques plain on her face. I hated seeing her like that, so upset and distressed.

"You _know_," The woman said hollowly. "You _know_..." So suddenly, she disappeared, leaving Susannah in a cold and desperate state.

"Um," Susannah looked at me uncomfortably once she realized the woman had gone. "I guess I got the wrong Red."

I grimaced at her, trying to be supportive in her mistake. The moment ruined, I was also aghast at how close I had come to kissing Susannah. As much as I had wanted to, I could not let something of that magnitude happen. It would feel so right, but I knew it was morally wrong...and dangerous. I hastily asked her how her poison oak was progressing, to cover the awkward silence that had come over us.

Susannah gave me a skeptical look and I apologized before dematerializing, coming into view on the beach, once again.

This was wrong, unethical...it was frightening. I could disappear any day of the week for any reason at all. It was what I had been waiting to happen for one hundred and fifty years, but now...I was not entirely sure how I felt about leaving at this point in time. And that frightened me more than what had almost happened just now in Susannah's room. I was powerless to stop the growing feelings I was having towards this frustrating, beautiful, vivacious girl. And it was too dangerous to show my developing feelings to Susannah. I had to come to grips with my emtions and quickly. I had to regain control.


	10. Bedevilment and Goodbyes

_**DISCLAIMER:**_ _I don't own the characters, etc etc. Sorry I haven't updated in a while, I've been pretty busy studying for end of year tests. Guess what, everyone! I'm going to fail my algebra exam, and will have to take the class over! Woohoo! Anyway, I hope you all like the chapter. The next chapter will be the start of Jesse and Suze's adventures in book three. Enjoy(:_

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I stayed away from Susannah and her bedroom the rest of the night and all of the next day. I could not face her knowing what had almost happened between us; I felt like such a coward, but I could not let anything of that sort occur. Susannah and I were...friends. I forbade myself to think of her in any other way than that. It was unlikely that it would go anywhere, at any rate. Although, I could not dispose of the feeling that something was very wrong in her mediation circumstance. She had notified the wrong Red? The ghost of the woman had said Susannah _knew_ who she was telling her about - it was a mystery.

I had popped into her bedroom to check on Spike, knowing Susannah was at school. The loving cat had become almost like a pet of mine, and I was happy to take care of it. It was as I fed Spike his supper that I heard it; a faint calling coming from the inside of my own head.

"_Jesse_," It exclaimed softly in my ghostly skull. And I recognized it at once; Susannah's voice. She could _call _to me? I had never heard of Mediator's being able to call upon spirits. And of course, Susannah never admitted to needing anyone's help. Did this mean she was in danger? I made my decision immediately, focusing all of my energy into materializing to where she was.

I arrived in a large, square room that looked distinctly like someone's study. There was a wide oak desk in front of a few windows that the shutters of the house were closed over. I looked around swiftly, and finally spotted Susannah lying on the floor in a heap of glass.

"Susannah?" I said, apalled. There was a tiny room behind the space where the glass surrounded. I was wondering why she was here in the first place when Susannah's head shot up at the sound of my voice.

"Oh," She said, sounding surprised. "Hi. How did you get here?"

"You called me," I said, confused. I had specifically heard her voice in my head. It was how I knew to come to her. As I had been processing this, she had simply stared at me for a moment, without speaking. I reached down, holding out my hand for her. She looked at it for a second, and then grabbed onto me as I pulled her off of the glass-strewn floor.

"Are you all right?" She had not offered an explanation as to why she was in this room. Looking around, I spotted the young Tad Beaumont snoozing on a couch across the area and many different kinds of fish flopping helplessly on the floor. _Nombre de __Dìos_, what was going on here?

"I'm fine," Susannah replied. It was when she stood upright that I realized she was soaking wet. "But I didn't call you." That was quite strange, seeing as I had certainly heard her calling for me back in her room.

There was suddenly a loud oath from across the room. For a moment I thought Tad had been woken, and I was angry with him for swearing in front of a lady. But when I turned, I saw a blonde man in an expensive suit attempting to stand, slipping and sliding on the floor as he went. "What the _hell_ did you do that for?" The man asked harshly and my anger flared again. When he finally managed to stand up, I recognized his features; this was Marcus Beaumont, Red Beaumont's younger brother and Tad's uncle.

I glanced at Susannah, who looked thoughtful, as if she were trying to remember something. She looked around the room, with me watching her carefully, and her eyes rested on Tad. Awareness flooded her features and she started through the filthy water and glass, over toward the hidden room. I surveyed her as she raised herself onto a platform and studied the lights above, suspended from the ceiling.

"Susannah," I said cautiously. I stepped over to where she was still examining the lights. "What are you doing?"

"Get down from there," The man across the room spoke angrily. "Get down from there, by God, or I'll climb in and fish you out - " He stopped speaking as Susannah burst out in laughter, despite the worrying circumstances.

"Susannah," I said, becoming anxious. "I think - " I didn't get to finish my sentence, for Marcus interrupted.

"We'll see how hard you're laughing when I get through with you, you stupid bitch." At that, my insides burned with fury. How dare he call my _querida_ such disgusting names? Susannah had stopped laughing and became stern.

"Susannah," I said again, my voice becoming close to panic.

"Don't worry, Jesse," She spoke softly. "I've got this one under control."

"_Jesse_?" Marcus asked incredulously. He glanced around the room and, not able to see me, said, "It's Marcus. I'm Marcus, remember? Now, come on down here. We don't have any more time for these childish games...."

Susannah ignored Marcus's ranting, instead bent down to grab hold of one of the accent lights at the bottom of the broken tank inside the hidden room.

"Okay," Marcus said, his tone steadily becoming angrier. "You want to play games?" He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, silver instrument. Getting a good look at it, I realized it was a gun. I became furious and frightened for Susannah at the same time; but there was certainly no way I was going to let this man harm her. "See this?" Marcus waved the gun around frantically. "I don't want to have to shoot you. The coroner tends to be suspicious of drowning victims bearing gunshot wounds. But we can always let the propellers dismember you so no one will actually be able to tell. Maybe just your head will toss up onto shore. Wouldn't your mother love _that_? Now put the light down and let's go."

Susannah stood up at Marcus's words, but took the light with her. There was a cord attatched to it, and she kept hold of that in her hand, as well. This man was talking about _killing _her, and she was more worried about the insignificant light? What could she be doing?

"That's right," Marcus said, looking relieved that she was following his orders. "Put the light down, and let's go."

"Susannah," I spoke up, worried. "That is a gun he is holding. Do you want me to - "

"Don't worry, Jesse," Susannah said. She walked slowly over to the edge of the broken tank. "Everything's under control."

"Who the hell is Jesse?" Marcus exclaimed. "There is no Jesse here. Now put the light down and let's - " Susannah was not listening, though. Watching, I saw her wrap the light's cord around her hand and pulled the actual bulb, making the cord come out of the socket. She looked up at Marcus defiantly, holding the light in one hand and the cord, wires frayed and hectic, in her other.

"That's great," Marcus said sarcastically. "You broke the light. You really showed me. Now _get down here_!" He shouted the last three words, but Susannah did not flinch.

Stepping to the very edge of the tank, she spoke calmly. "I am not stupid." I watched her carefully, mesmerized by her words. What could she _possibly _be doing?

"Whatever you say," Marcus waved the gun some more. "Just - "

"Nor," Susannah interrupted. "Am I a bitch." Marcus suddenly focused on to what she was up to.

"No!" He shouted, but it was too late. Susannah thrust the frayed cord into the water right at Marcus's feet. There was a spark of light and many explosions. Then, all of the lights went out.

"That was very impressive, Susannah," I told her, glancing at Marcus, who was groaning on the ground. I was extremely awed, and even slightly proud, at how she had handled the situation.

"Thanks," She said, sounding pleased.

"Now," I said. "Do you think you want to tell me just what is going on here? Is that your friend Tad on the couch there?" I moved toward her, offering my hand.

"Uh-huh," She said simply, stepping down from the raised platform. "Step over here, will you, so I can - " Susannah broke off her speech, finding the cord on the floor. She pulled it upright with her, saying, "Nevermind. Just in case they get the circuit breaker fixed before I'm out of here."

"Who is _they_?" I asked seriously. "Susannah, what is going on here?"

"It's a long story, and I'm not sticking around to tell it. I want to be out of here when he wakes up," She said, nodding towards Marcus, still lying on the floor. "He's got a couple of thick-necked compadres waiting for me, too, in case - " She stopped suddenly. "Do you smell that?" She asked nervously. I sniffed the air carefully and felt the weight of dread settle in my stomach.

"Smoke," I said quietly. Susannah shivered, looking around the room hopelessly.

"Great," She said, somehow managing to sound aggravated.

"The windows," I said quickly, rushing to the shuttered panes that led to outside.

"It's no good," Susannah sighed. What did she mean? The windows led to _outside_, away from the fire. Picking up the phone and slamming it down again when she realized there was no dial tone, Susannah said, "They're nailed shut."

"So?" I said, perplexed. I could just detonate the shutters away from the window.

"So," She said exasperatedly. "_Nailed_, Jesse. As in impossible to budge." Ah, she had forgotten about my ghostly capabilities.

"For you, maybe." I focused on the window panes, throwing as much force as I could into it. The shutters started to quiver, then shudder, then positively shake with the strength of my mind.

"Golly gee, miser," Susannah grinned. "I forgot all about your superpowers." I felt the triumphant smile slip off my face at her words. I had no inkling of what she was talking about.

"My what?" I asked curiously.

"Oh," Susannah said, disappointed. "Nevermind." Suddenly, there were a great booming noise, and the shutters were blasted away from the windows. She rushed over and looked down, realizing we were on one of the upper stories. There was a tasteful patio below the window, but that would not help when she needed to jump. Thankfully, there was a pool just beside it.

"It can't be more than twenty feet," I said helpfully as Susannah judged the distance from the window to the pool. "You go. I'll look after him." I nodded back towards Marcus. "And them, if they make any progress." I was referring to the 'compadres' calling up the elevator shaft. She was about to go, but her gaze shifted to Tad, who still laid upon the couch.

Susannah noticed my eye roll and said defensively, "Well, I can't just leave him here."

"No," I sighed. I assisted her with my telekenisis to move Tad over toward the window. Susannah looked hesitant about dropping him from an upper story of the house, but I truly had no difficulty helping her with it. She took a deep breath and shoved, watching Tad spiral towards the earth. Much as I detested the boy, I was relieved when he landed in the pool safely.

Susannah hesitated, having one last look around the room at Marcus. "Go, Susannah," I told her. She nodded but then opened her mouth hesitantly.

"You're not..." She paused. "You're not going to kill him, are you?" I could see what she was getting at, but I would never do such a thing. It was not my place to do that.

"Of course not," I said incredulously. "_Go_." I watched uneasily as my _querida _stepped up to the window and took the plunge. Watching breathlessly, I muttered a thanks in Spanish when she landed in the pool and swam to the surface, unharmed.

Turning around, I went to deal with a Mr. Marcus Beaumont.

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I sat with Susannah in her bedroom, with me sitting on the window seat as was customary. She had spoken with her youngest stepbrother about the ghostly woman, and I was as surprised as she was when she told me that the woman was David's mother.

"So?" I asked curiously. "How did he take it?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Susannah had refused to say a word about the conversation. No matter how much I pleaded, or asked about it, she would not.

"Come on." It sounded strange, even to my own ears, to be saying that. It was not my normal vocabulary, but I had been getting used to Susannah's way of speaking. "Tell me what he said."

"Tell me what you guys did to Marcus," Susannah demanded back at me. I was surprised at that. We had not _done_ anything to him physically. We simply made it so that he would never wish to return here again, the spirits of those he killed always with him.

"We did nothing to him," I said matter-of-factly.

"Baloney," Susannah said. "Where'd he go then?" I shrugged at her and turned to pet Spike, who purred happily.

"I think he decided to travel for a while."

"Without any money? Without his credit cards?" She asked skeptically.

I smirked at her. "There is something to be said for seeing this great country of ours on foot. Maybe he will come to have a better appreciation for its natural beauty." Susannah snorted, rolling her eyes. I raised an eyebrow at her.

"He'll be back in a week."

"I think not," I said lightly.

"Why not?" She asked, instantly sounding suspicious. I was not sure if it would upset her, what we decided to do with Marcus. Hesitating, I looked at her seriously. "What? Telling me, a mere living being, is going to violate some spectral code?" I smiled easily at her words.

"No," I said. "He's not coming back, Susannah, because the souls of the people he killed won't let him." She rasied her eyebrows at this, seeming even more curious.

"What do you mean?"

"In my day," I sighed. "It was called bedevilment. I don't know what they call it now. But your intervention had a rallying effect on Mrs. Fiske and the three others whose lives Marcus Beaumont took. They have banded together, and will not rest until he has been sufficiently punished for his crimes. He can run from one end of the earth to the other, but he will never escape them. Not until he dies himself. And when that happens, he will be a broken man." My voice had turned dark and angry at the end of my explanation.

"So," Susannah said after a long while. "I guess you did the same thing, huh, to the, um, people who killed you, right?" Ah, so we were back to this again. I could not understand why my death was that relevant to her. Well, maybe a bit, because I _was _residing in her room. But I was not interested in telling her quite yet.

"Tell me what happened with your brother," I said instead, avoiding the question.

"Stepbrother," Susannah corrected. She was silent for a while, most likely thinking over her conversation with David. I smiled at her silence, realizing she wasn't going to say anything either.

"Still," I said. "You must be feeling good. It's not every mediator who single-handedly stops a murderer."

She snorted, coming out of her daze. "It's an honor I could definitely have lived without. And I didn't do it single-handedly. You helped." I was touched that she would remember my very slight assistance. But, as she proved with her next sentiment, she had it well under control. "Well, sort of." She turned towards me a little, sticking out her chin in that stubborn way of hers. "Thanks for showing up, the way you did."

"How could I not?" I said, thinking back to when I heard her in my head. "You called me." I focused my attention on Spike for a moment, dragging a string in front of his snout.

"Um," Susannah said, clearly goaded. "I did not call you, all right? I don't know where you're getting this."

I looked up at her expressionless face. "I distinctly heard you, Susannah." She scowled for a moment, letting that sink in.

"Well, while we're on the subject," She said in her accusatory tone. "How come you didn't tell me that Red was Doc's mom's nickname for him?" I just blinked at her. Did she actually think, if I knew something important like that, I would keep it from her? If I had known, I would have gladly informed her, to help her mediation circumstance and to keep her away from the Beaumonts.

"How would I have known?" I told her. She didn't answer, so I changed the subject. "What did the priest say? When you told him about the Beaumonts, I mean?"

"Not a whole lot," Susannah admitted. "He's pretty peeved at me for not having filled him in right away about Marcus and stuff." The phone suddenly rang, a sound which I positively hated. The things people come up with these days.

I tried not to listen to Susannah's conversation, which I failed dismally at, especially when I realized it was Tad Beaumont calling for her.

Once she hung up the phone, I had heard enough to gather that Tad was going away for quite a long time, and would not be seeing Susannah anymore. This cheered me up considerably.

"So," I said, trying to sound indifferent. "You and Tad? You are no more?" I probably should have apologized for listening in on her private conversation, but my manners had slipped my mind at this piece of news.

Scowling, Susannah said, "Not that it's any of your business. But yes, it appears Tad is moving to San Francisco."

I simply grinned broadly at my _querida_.


	11. Defensive

_**DISCLAIMER:**_ _Obviously, I do not own The Mediator series or the characters. Okay, I have an apology to make. I feel like such a jerk. I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while, everything has just been so crazy with exams. I've been studying like a crazy person. But summer has officially started! :D So I'll probably have more time to update in the future. Don't worry, though, I didn't completely forget about FanFiction while I was away and studying; I've been coming up with a new idea for another Mediator Fic, but it probably won't be up for a long time. I'll definitely put it up eventually and I'm excited about starting it! But I'll definitely be finishing this story, so do not fret. (; I'm sorry again that I have kept you waiting, and I'm also sorry this chapter is a little short. But I promise to update more often now that I'll have more time. I hope you like this one! :)_

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"Shhh." Susannah shushed me as I materialized in her room. It had been a week or so after the Beaumont incident and things were just starting to calm down again. She gestured to the side and I glanced around her room, spotting a long shape on the floor that was supported by a type of foam-mattress item. The form, that I now recognized as a human body, was moving slightly in time with its breathing. I knew this was Susannah's friend who was visiting from her home back in New York. Gina, I believe her name was.

"When is she leaving?" I asked seriously. I had recieved a piece of interesting, yet alarming, news about new ghostly specters and I had come to warn Susannah. Another thought occurred to me that I wanted Gina to depart for another reason entirely...but I banished that thought from my mind immediately. These ghosts that have arrived in the world were angry. Very angry. I did not want Susannah coming into contact with them, but of course she was The Mediator. I doubted whether I could keep her away from dangerous situations for long. Then there was the fact that the ghosts could come looking for Susannah.

"I told you," She said now, seeming irritated. "Next Sunday." Sunday? But that was a week from now. I understood that she wanted to visit with her friend and I'm sure Susannah had missed her plenty. Still, with these ghostly vistors appearing...it seemed too dangerous. As I had been thinking this through, I went over to Spike absentmindedly and scratched his ears and chin. Susannah had somehow convinced her mother to let him stay, and I was grateful for that. I was becoming attatched to the cat...as well as other things. Ah, but I musn't think that way!

"Look," Susannah said, interrupting my thoughts, and not a moment too soon. "It's just for a week. Spike will survive." Spike? I wasn't thinking about Spike's well being, though of course I took care of him. I was reflecting upon Susannah's own safety, wanting to make sure she was secure now that there were fresh, angry ghosts impending upon society.

"It's not Spike I'm worried about," I said, looking at her strangely. Now Susannah's expression became confused, her head tilting to the side slightly.

"Yeah?" She inquired. "What is it, then? Gina's very cool, you know. Even if she found out about you, I doubt she'd run screaming from the room or anything. She'd probably just want to borrow your shirt sometime, or something." Why on earth would Gina wish to borrow a man's shirt? I disregarded Susannah's words, thinking that this Gina character seemed very odd indeed.

"I'm certain that she's very...cool," I said, trying out the twenty-first century word. It did not seem to fit with my individual nature. I looked over at Gina, seeing a mop of copper-colored hair spilling out from underneath the blankets. I had to get on with my explanation, however. "It's just that something's happened - " Susannah's expression went from lazily bored to alert and focused immediately. She sat up straighter, her eyes hard and professional. She was waiting for the worst. I loved that about her - that she was so dedicated to this mediating, even if she complained about it constantly. She was the strongest person I'd ever encountered. "I've been hearing some things," I finished. Susannah's work ethic had gone from her features as she laid back against the pillows on her bed, uninterested again. I was confused; did she not want to hear about the ghosts?

"Oh," She said. "So you've sensed a disturbance in the Force, have you, Luke?" I was thoroughly confused now, wondering what she could possibly be talking about. My eyebrows furrowed as I tried to work out what she had said; A disturbance in the Force? Well, yes, I had heard about a disturbance in the Astral Plane, about the new ghosts who were furious with their deaths. Could that be what she meant? Susannah sighed, obviously irritated, breaking into my thoughts. "So you heard something on the ghost grapevine. What?" She demanded.

"There are newcomers," I said gravely. She must take this seriously, she _must_. She could not be in danger again. "Young ones."

Susannah raised her eyebrows expectantly. "Yes?" She prompted.

"They're looking for something," I said, trying to work out the thoughts in my head. The ghosts had died suddenly, ending their wonderful lives. They believed a young man they knew had killed them, and if I were not mistaken, that was who they were most likely looking for.

"Yeah." Susannah snorted. "I know. Beer."

Beer? She must be joking. Ghosts have no need for those alcoholic beverages. I shook my head at her, trying to be patient. I wasn't looking at Susannah exactly, I was looking around her, thinking about these ghosts. Were they going to try to avenge their deaths? That seemed like the type of thing many ghosts felt was required to receive justice. "No," I said now. "Not beer. They're looking for someone. And they're angry. They're very angry, Susannah." I looked at her intensely then, focusing my dark eyes on her emerald ones. She had to understand how murderously furious these ghosts were - witticism not intended.

Susannah looked away from me, down at her hands. "Angry?" She repeated. She seemed to be thinking about something, her eyebrows knitting on her forehead. "Well, okay. I'll keep my eyes open. Thanks."

I was about to tell her how much danger she could be in, as well as the Priest and this boy they were looking for; but at that moment I was interrupted by a drowsy voice and a squeaking of mattress springs.

"Suze?" Said the voice, calling Susannah by the nickname that I believed did not do her justice. "Who you talking to?" Gina rolled over, and I saw that she had tan skin with many reddish-brown curls; she had a sparkle of jewlery in her nose and her eyebrows were currently raised at Susannah expectantly. I was astonished by her appearance, wondering what on earth could have driven her to create such a startling exterior look.

"Nobody," Susannah replied quickly. She looked guilty about lying to her friend, and I understood her reluctance; it must be hard to confide in no one, besides the dead, about your abilities. "Why?"

Gina sat up entirely, ignoring the question and gazing at my cat. "So that's the famous Spike I've been hearing so much abuot from your brothers? Damn, he is ugly."

_Ugly_? She just described my cat as _ugly_. He was not ugly, he was battle-scarred, so it seemed to me. This showed he was brave! That Gina should take another look at her own appearance, and then tell me who is the better looking animal. I could tell my expression was defensive and - dare I say it, enraged - earning a few disapproving glances from Susannah.

"He's not so bad," She said to Gina, trying to diffuse the situation

"Are you on crack?" Gina asked incredulously. I did not know what crack was, but it did not sound good. "Simon," She continued, calling Susannah by her surname. "The thing's only got one ear."

Battle scarred! I thought angrily. I could tell my anger was getting out of hand, especially when the mirror above Susannah's dressing table began to shake violently.

"Hey!" Gina exclaimed excitedly. "All right! Another one!" I did not know for certain what she meant, but I guessed she was referring to an earthquake, since that could be the only cause of the mirror shaking in California.

Still annoyed with her comments, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I used the telekinesis power that was at the forefront of my brain to send a bottle of green paint-like goop - the color of Susannah's eyes - sailing across the room and straight into Gina's open luggage carrier. I had heard Susannah complaining once of this paint-like substance leaving stains upon her clothes. The small crystal bottle had been uncapped when I tipped it into the suitcase, and I smiled triumphantly at the thought. That should teach her to say nasty things about someone else's pet.

Gina shrieked indignantly, rushing to save what she could from the green paint. "Don't look at me like that, Susannah," I said to her defensively. "You heard what she said about him. She called him ugly." It was not just. I could not let that girl talk about Spike like that. It was not fair that he should be criticized when he can't even defend himself.

"_I_ say he's ugly all the time and you don't ever do that to _me_," Susannah snarled angrily. Well, of course I would never do that do her. And besides, this was her room and she let Spike reside in it, giving him a home. That was much kinder than what her friend had said. Susannah was better than that.

I raised my eyebrow, aggravated. "Well, it's different when you say it," I told her seriously. I did not want to stay there and explain to her why I would never pour green paint over her clothes, nor did I want to be in the company of Gina, who disliked my cat. I dematerialized, irritated with myself, Susannah and, most of all, Gina. Though it put a dent in my manners to admit it, Sunday could not come fast enough.


	12. Courtship

_**DISCLAIMER:**_ _I do not own the Mediator, or any of the characters._

_I know, I know; I am an awful person. I know you don't want to hear my lame excuses, but everything has just been so crazy! There have been a lot of family issues and every time I sat down to write, I would get interrupted. But enough with my pathetic explanations. Here is the next chapter! I am so sorry that I haven't gotten it up sooner. I hope you all like it, and I promise that I will try to have the next chapter up as soon as possible. Feel free to hate me if I don't. Please tell me what you think! (:_

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Susannah had just finished telling me about the incident that had occurred at the mall that day and while I was uneasy at the thought of her being there in the midst of all that danger, the solution was obvious; she needed to spend time with the Michael boy, as much as it pained me to say it, and make sure he was protected from those ghosts who wanted revenge. This Michael did not sound like the type of person Susannah would be involved with romantically from her explanation, and I felt a familiar twinge of guilt that the thought pleased me.

"Well," I said now. "You know what you have to do, don't you?" Susannah had her legs folded up to her chin and she gazed out across the front lawn morosely. We were sitting upon a section of the house roof that jutted out from the window to her room; the moonlight shone brightly down on us, giving Susannah an angelic glow behind her, which lit up her eyes and smile.

"Yeah," She answered me. "I have to tell her about that time I found that nudie magazine under the front seat of the rambler. That oughta make her change her mind about him real quick."

A _nudie_ magazine? What in the heavens was she talking about? I knew what the term _nude_ mean, as I was not uneducated in that...field of involvement. But who was she talking about, and why would they have such an exhibition of disrespect towards women?

My eyebrow went up as I contemplated this. "Susannah, what are you talking about?"

"Gina," She replied, surprised that I hadn't known. "And Sleepy." Ah, she was still worried about how her friend was taking on a different kind of relationship with her step-brother than she had anticipated. But that was not what I had been talking about, not at all. My thoughts went to Michael forcefully, as if my conscience was reminding me that it was wrong to be...envious. I could not help wondering if this would be another repeat of my feelings of Tad Beaumont.

"No," I said quickly, trying not to ponder any more on that. "I meant about the boy, Susannah." _Michael._

"What boy?" Susannah seemed to have forgotten about Michael, which made me want to laugh, but then she recalled. "Oh. You mean Michael?"

"Yes. If what you're telling me is true, he is in a lot of danger, Susannah." Those ghosts would not stop until they avenged their deaths, and Michael was sure to be involved. I had been worrying intensely about Susannah's taking part in this situation as well.

"I know." Susannah leaned back against the roof, stretching out; the white light of the moon caught on her hair and made her eyes sparkle. Her beauty astounded me, once again. The stars that shone vibrantly above us in the dark black of the sky could not even compare to how brightly she shined in my mind.

"So, what are you going to do about it?" I asked her. She stared at me for a moment, probably considering my inquiry.

"I have no idea," She said finally.

"Don't you?" I said inexplicably. The answer was clear as day to me, but I wondered what Susannah would think.

Susannah just stared at me again, her mouth twisting sideways, looking a bit wistful; she stayed like that for a long time, and I found myself yearning to hear what she was thinking.

"You're going to have to find them," I told her, trying to give her thoughts a push in the right direction. "The Angels. Because if I'm right, that boy will not be safe until they are persuaded to move on." Susannah sighed, and instead of agreeing with me like I hoped she would, she stood up on the roof and strode over to the large window that led into her bedroom.

"Jeez," She said, coming to sit down beside me once again. "She's still in there." I knew she had been checking for Gina's return from her step-brothers room; little did she know that I had materialized in there to assess the circumstances, for Susannah's sake.

I smiled a little at Susannah's disgruntled expression. "You cannot blame her for being interested in your brother."

"Step-brother." She corrected me immediately. "And yes, I can. He's vermin. And he's got her in his lair." I thought this was a bit extreme, but Susannah truly seemed to believe that her brother was doing...things with her best friend, things that would not be honorable for a young lady.

I smiled even more at Susannah now. "They are only playing computer games, Susannah," I said, hoping to reassure her.

"How do you know?" She demanded. Then, awareness sparked in her eyes. "Well, sure," She said stubbornly. "The last time you looked, maybe. Who knows what they're doing now?"

I sighed exasperatedly. "Do you want me to look again?" I inquired.

"_No_," Susannah said, appalled. "I don't care what she does." I knew that was a lie, but I decided not to point that out to her, as she seemed distressed enough already. "If she wants to hang around with a big loser like Sleepy, I can't stop her."

I felt compelled to point out, "Brad was there, too. Last time I looked."

"Oh, great." Susannah's tone led me to believe she did not think this was 'great' at all. "So she's hanging out with two losers."

"I don't understand why you are so unhappy about it," I said. I laid back on the roof tiles as well, looking up at the moon. "I like it much better this way."

"What way?" Susannah griped, swishing the pine needles she had been sitting on around the roof. I did not feel the pine needs nearly as much, since I was a ghost.

"Just the two of us," I told her. It was true; I could get used to the idea of being with Susannah like this, although I warned myself not to get too comforable. It could not stay like this forever, as much as I may have wanted it too. She would grow older, or I would move on, and that would be the end of that. "Like it's always been." I finished my thought.

Before Susannah could say anything else, headlights from a car swept over us, heading into the Ackerman's driveway.

"Who's that?" I asked suspiciously. I wanted to hear what Susannah had to say about it being just the two of us, but my sensitive intuition was prickling; I could feel the downright _fear_ this person brought with them, and my mind jumped immediately to that boy, Michael. He seemed like a prime candidate for the dread and terror, as he had recently killed four people in an accidental car crash. But something didn't feel right about this boy; there seemed to be a...sinister atmosphere about him that instantly made me forget about the pity I had felt for him a moment before.

Susannah didn't even glance up at the car. "One of Sleepy's friends, I'm sure," She said quickly. I could feel her eyes on my face, but I didn't take _my_ eyes, or ghostly perception, off of Michael. "What was that you were saying?" Susannah continued. "About it being just the two of us?" While I would have liked to approach that subject again, it would be impossible with this feeling of dismay I felt upon sensing Michael's ominous aura.

"This is not a friend of Jake's," I said, squinting against the bright headlights of the car and vaguely seeing Michael in the drivers seat. "Not bringing with him so much...fear. Could this be the boy, Michael, perhaps?"

"_What?_" Susannah did not sound particularly happy about his interruption. She spun around on the roof, grabbing hold of the edge, and made her way closer to where she could see the car better. Then, proving my assumption correct, Michael extracted himself from the car and made his way to the front foor of the Ackerman household.

"Oh my God," Susannah began shrilly. She stepped away from the edge of the roof and back toward where I was sitting silently. "You're right! It's him! What do I do?"

I shook my head at her question. She knew what to do. And I had no doubt she would do it well...for the most part. "What do you mean, what do you do?" I asked her incredulously. "You know what to do. You've done this hundreds of times before." Susannah only continued to stare at me blankly, so I leaned forward to enhance the effect of my words. If my closeness bothered her, she did not complain. Nor did I, for that matter. The nearness of Susannah only made me want to be even closer - but no, I shouldn't be thinking that at all, I chided myself. But I was sure that if I had a working heart, it would have been thundering against my ribcage quite painfully because of the very tiny space between Susannah's face and my own. "You're a mediator, Susannah," I continued, trying to focus my thoughts again. "Go mediate."

Susannah opened her mouth as if to object, but closed it again and dropped her head into her hands. I instantly wanted to comfort her, to put my arms around her, but of course I could not do that. I could never do that, nor should I allow myself to think like that. There was the sound of a doorbell ringing and I heard the youngest boy in the house, David, shout, "I'll get it!" from downstairs.

"Oh, God," Susannah muttered.

"Susannah," I said, not bothering to hide the concern in my voice. "Are you all right?"

She seemed to shake herself a bit, obviously trying to pull herself together. But she shouldn't have to be 'together' all of the time. "I'm fine," She said automatically, standing up.

"You don't sound fine," I told her disapprovingly.

"I'm fine," She repeated. Susannah then began to edge herself over to the window, climbing over the ledge and sliding back into her room. I quickly became Unseen, making an abrupt decision to keep an eye on what Susannah said to the boy. She did not seem to like him very much, seeing as when she described him to me, I recall her using the term "creepy." But I had a feeling that she _needed_ to become closer to Michael as a way of being able to contact the RLS Angels. Susannah was not one to think before she spoke and I immediately chose to supervise this gathering.

I followed, still Unseen, into Susannah's room, just as she finished climbing back onto the window seat. Then, the door was opened and David, her youngest step-brother, came in.

"Hey, Suze," He said in a low voice. "There's _guy_ here to see you. I think it's that guy you all were talking about at dinner. You know, the guy from the mall."

"I know." Susannah sounded tired, and she refused to take her eyes off of the ceiling.

"Well." David shifted nervously. "What should I do? I mean, your mom sent me up here to tell you. Should I say you're in the shower, or something? That's what girls always have their brothers say when my friends and I try calling them."

I saw Susannah glance sharply at David, recognizing the injustice of that lie. I knew then, while she was looking at her step-brother, that she would not hide in her room. She would go and talk to Michael, because that was what she had to do. It was so...Susannah. I loved that about her.

"Tell him I'll be right down," She said, standing up to look in the gilt-framed mirror. I watched, feeling a bit ill at ease, as she ruffled her hair somewhat and put something on her lips to make them shine. When she finally deemed herself ready, I trailed behind her down to the sitting room of the house, where Michael Meducci was standing awkwardly with Susannah's step-father.

"Well," Andy Ackerman said rather uncomfortably. "I'll just leave the two of you alone, then." He turned and entered the kitchen, while I silently fumed about his choice of words. Leave the two _alone_, indeed.

"Suze," Michael was saying now.

Susannah smiled at him. "Hey, Mike. You okay? No permanent injury?" Ah, she was asking about the incident at the shopping center that had occured that day. That was a perfect way to start.

"No permanent injury," Michael said shakily. "Except to my pride.

Susannah sat lazily on an armchair, and said, "Hey, it wasn't your fault the mall authority did a shoddy job of hanging up their mardi gras decorations." Her eyes searched his face, and I assumed she was wondering if she knew what had caused the ornament to fall on top of him.

Michael took a seat in the chair opposite of her. "That's not what I meant," He said, still sounding anxious. "I meant that I'm ashamed of the way I acted today. Instead of thanking you, I - well, I behaved ungraciously, and I just came by to apologize. I hope you'll forgive me."

He behaved ungraciously? Susannah seemed to have left that part out of her explanation. Well, I reminded myself, he _was_ apologizing now. But still, he should have thanked her properly at the scene for saving his life, instead of acting as rudely as he says he did. Or perhaps I was slightly prejudiced against the boy.

"Um," Susannah said. It was clear that Michael did not know why he had been in danger today. Then again...there was a chance that he was lying. "Sure. I forgive you. No problem."

"It's just that - " Michael stood up from the chair he had vacated and started to pace about the room. "It's just that something happened to me this weekend, and ever since then...well, strange things have been happening." That seemed to perk Susannah up a bit, though she was still professional in her questioning.

"Things like that puppet falling down on you?" She asked.

"Yeah." Michael replied with the obvious answer. "And other things, too. But I don't want to burden you with my problems. I feel bad enough about what happened."

"Hey." Susannah shrugged easily. "You were shaken up. It's understandable. No hard feelings. Listen, about what happened to you this weekend, do you want to - "

"_No_." Michael's voice took on a menacing tone, a tone that I did not like to hear when he was speaking to my _querida_. "It's not understandable. It's not understandable, and it's not excusable, either. Suze, you already - I mean, that thing with Brad earlier today - "

Susannah stared at him blankly, and I assumed that she was wondering what he was talking about.

"And then when you saved my life at the mall...It's just that I was trying so hard, you know, to show you that that's not who I am - the kind of guy who needs a girl to fight his battles for him. And then you did it _again_...." To me, Michael did not seem like the type of man who would fight his battles whether there was a lady present or not. He should think himself lucky that Susannah was there to save him. I was satisfied, however, that he'd dropped that tone of voice.

Susannah's mouth opened in shock. "Michael," She started quickly, but he interrupted her. She obviously knew where he was heading with this, though I had no idea. But I presumed I was about to find out.

"No. Let me finish. It's not that I'm not grateful, Suze. It's not that I don't appreciate what you're trying to do for me. It's just that...I really like you, and if you would agree to go out with me this Friday night, I'll show you that I am not the sniveling coward I've acted like so far in our relationship."

Ah, now I understood. He wished to court Susannah on a date. This was not ideal for me and, judging by Susannah's surprised and slightly sickened expression, she did not wish to accompany him either. But this was a perfect excuse to get close to Michael, and she needed to do this in order to figure out the Angel's accounts of their deaths and mediate them. And it was possible that maybe Susannah even liked this Meducci fellow...

"I've already asked your father," Michael continued, which only made Susannah look even more appalled. I could imagine her mind conjuring up an image of Mr. Peter Simon, her dead biological father. "And he said it was all right as long as you were home by eleven."

I watched Susannah's face closely, and was alerted to the fact that her expression did not change from icy shock. Not even an inch.

Michael, realizing where he made a slight blunder in his speech, said quickly, "Your step-father, I mean."

Finally, after a few long, agonizingly silent moments, Susannah opened her mouth to speak. And seeing the way her eyes shone with defiance and her lips were set in a stubborn line, I decided to intervene, appearing in the armchair that Michael had once been sitting in.

"Think before you say no, Susannah." She turned her head slightly, laying her emerald eyes on me. They narrowed a bit, as if to convey that she did not need my help. So I continued on anyway. "He needs your help, Susannah. He is in very grave danger from the spirits of those he killed - however accidentally. And you are not going to be able to protect him from a distance. If you alienate him now, he'll never let you close enough to help him later when he's really going to need you."

Her eyes only narrowed more while I had been speaking, but I could tell it had worked. I knew Susannah wanted to snap at me; but of course she could not talk to me with Michael present, seeing as it would defeat the purpose of my speech if he thought Susannah was a mad woman, talking to someone who wasn't there.

She sighed resignedly and turned back to Michael, who was waiting with an anxious expression. "Yeah, okay. Friday's fine."

Michael kept up a constant string of "thank you"s and exclaimations of how happy he was that Susannah would escort him on the date. It got to be a little much for me to handle, what with the sense of foreboding that seemed to surround Michael wherever he went. I was starting to have some doubts about his character, but I had convinced myself and Susannah that this was the only way she could help him, by getting close to the boy. I disappeared after Michael left, watching Susannah storm up the stairs back to her room, where I knew Gina would be waiting to ambush her with questions. I decided to leave them to it, knowing it would be rude to eavesdrop on their time together.

So I wandered around the streets of Carmel, finding myself back on the roof outside of Susannah's room in the middle of the night. All of the lights were off, and I knew she would be sleeping.

I let my mind wander to the conversation we were having before we were interrupted by Michael's arrival. I had said I liked it this way, just the two of us. And I meant it.

I thought of Susannah, and wondered where Michael would take her on their alleged date, humming a song under my nonexistant breath. "_Oh, Susannah, oh don't you cry for me. For I come from Alabama with this banjo on my knee._"


	13. Authors Note!

Hey, everyone!

I'm so sorry if I got anyone's hopes up that this was going to be a new chapter :( I just had to write this author's note for a few reasons; one, I've been an _awful_ person by just leaving you all hanging without a word and not updating in...forever. And two, I have complete and total writers block. Oh, and there's the fact that my computer recently crashed and _all_ of my stories that I have been working on for the past year were deleted, some of them which I haven't posted on Fan Fiction yet. It devestated me and my writing has been off ever since. I've just been mourning the loss of all my work and kicking myself for not saving my stories on a flashdrive or something.

But I want to thank you all for your patience with _**Jesse's Side**_. I hope there are still people out there who will forgive me for disappearing and still want to read my story. It means the world to me that you all have such faith in my writing, even when I sometimes don't. I will be updating it as soon as I possibly can; I'm trying to ease back into my writing mode and get my butt in gear again. As soon as that happens, I will have an update for you all, I promise! Thank you so much, a thousand times, and I honestly don't have the words to describe how grateful I am to all of my readers. :D I _will_ be back soon!

Love, **love**, _love_,

Brittany.


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